Sweet Summer, with her flowers, has past,
I hear her parting knell;
I hear the moaning, fitful blast,
Sighing a sad farewell.
But, while she fades and dies away,
In rainbow hues she glows;
Like the last smile of parting day,
Still brightening as she goes.
The robin whistles clear and shrill;
Sad is the cricket's song;
The wind, wild rushing o'er the hill,
Bears the dead leaf along.
I love this sober, solemn time,
This twilight of the year;
To me, sweet Spring, in all her prime,
Was never half so dear.
While death has set his changing seal
On all that meets the eye,
‘ Tis rapture, then, within to feel
The soul that cannot die;—
To look far, far beyond this sky,
To Him who changes never.
This earth, these heavens, shall change and die;
God is the same for ever.