Poems (Louisa Blake)/Autumn

For works with similar titles, see Autumn.
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AUTUMN.
There is a pleasure felt amid the gloomOf autumn's sad and desolating reign,And though we mourn the flower's departed bloomWe feel assured they will revive again;The seeds of life, though latent, still remain,They sleep to burst in brighter lovelinessAnd 'neath the snows of winter, will attainFresh power to charm us, fairer hues to bless,And sweet in fragrance, Heaven's kind care confess.
There 's beauty also in the changing huesOf the rich foliage of an autumn's day,And I have sat for hours to think, to muse,And see the bright, clear, dazzling sunbeams playUpon the leaves, which lighted by the ray,Seem'd like the rainbow's soft and lovely dyes,When on a smiling, tearful April dayThe glorious pledge of peace attracts our eyes,As it in graceful arch, extends across the skies.
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And it is pleasant, although sad to seeIn the decay of nature's lovely bloomAn emblem of our own mortality,Memento of our progress to the tomb;Yet though this thought alone is one of gloom,We may look forward with refined delightBeyond death's portals, where we shall assumeA new existence, gloriously bright,And spend one lasting spring in Heaven's unchanging light.
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