Hail! dearest day of all the storied year!
Belated songsters of the withering wood,
And hardy flowers, whose vigor has withstood
The first light frosts of Autumn, far and near
Display themselves, to make such sober cheer
As the late season, and the darkened mood
Of these brief days permit their warming blood.
And, lo! from hill and vale and glassy mere,
The breathing altars of the earth aspire
In smoky incense to this balmy morn;
Summer again appears in new attire,
Soft breezes dance the silken-tasseled corn,
The serried trees have set themselves on fire,
To celebrate the day my Love was born.