An Autumn Day
How still the trees! How free the air!
Delightful morn! How bright and rare;
The brilliant sun without a cloud,
Which works to bless a world so proud!
The foliage falls, the flowers fade;
In fate, there’s yet — a serenade.
Those dark and fading hues invite
The memories lost, now soft, and bright.
Each passing hour brings forth its pains,
The dew-drops dance about the plains;
Thou with thy golden shields shall break,
A path to peace for life’s own sake.
- William Hazlitt