The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1884-10-31
IN AUTUMN DAYS.

See how the brightfaced Autumn shines in
And decks with silver mists the purple
wales;
Night like raven. from the earth is driven.
And frosty Morning, charioted by gales,
Rides where the East burns with ruby fire,
And throws his flaming lances higher and
higher.
Oglorious dawn! Thou type of life and hopel
Freed from the secret prison of the night,
Thy shining charms like wondrous blossoms
That, having no rich balm, exhale the
Until a thousand rainbows blent in one
Seem dreaming on the highway of the sun.
The clouds, gorgeous pageant, cold with
piide,
In silent grandeur throng the solemn skies,
Or flushed with glory, gather side by side
Where in the West the lordly mountains
The soul Of Beauty haunts both heaven and
earth,
The very air to life and joy gives birth.
The nodding golden-rod shines where the dust
The roadside grass has whitened in the sun.
Dear, faithful flower, still its bloom will trust
Though Natures hour of poisoning is
When Winters frosty fingers pluck its
charms,
And yonder plume Of sumach crimson fair
See how it burns beside the moss-grown
Twill glow till, hushing all the frosty air,
The snow, heavens frozen kiss of pity,
Twill nod and bow, till, clad with faded
leaves,
Death DER the plain q homeless wanderer
grieves.
The frosty chestnuts pour in rustling show
eFS
Their bursting wealth upon the leaf-strewn
ground,
And through the afternoons swift flying
hours
The shouts of many merry school-boy
-4h, happy tribe unknown to want and care,
You'd l a laughing child might JOIN them
there!
Rich ripe and bearded falls the yellow grain,
Where rings the reaper's scythe at break of
day,
And filled with gladness is the honest swain,
That homeward guides his load at twilight
Through dewy lanes where sleeps the bleating
And shines the early crescent white and cold.
Deep in the vineyards, on the russell stem
The clustered grapes hang purple with their
wine,
Each smOothed and rounded like chiseled
We'll worthy on some queenly breast to
shine.
With what sweet charms each season greets
Each 70 its end in beauty fuller grows.
The birds have flown TO sing in Southern
skies,
Where Summer holds eternal blossoming;
Where heavens pure dream of growing sum
light lies
On earth as softly as an angels wing;
And whore the streams sing on with music
rare,
And entertain the wild woods unaware.
But though the birds have flown, and on the
Their bubbling songs of love no more are
heard,
Yet harkl a thousand voices hath the gale,
And each voice seems the echo of bird.
The reeds like flutes breathe sweet 8olian
songs,
And to each stirring twlg tongue belongs.
Nor have the rivers, glittering in the light
Forgotten that wild minstresy they knew:
The rills purl on as sweet to Autumn bright
AS e'er they rang at Summers hour of dew:
Nor have the insects but a season old,
Their merry piping closed because tits cold.
But now, gay Autumn thou who bringest
death
To Summers gentleness thyself must die,
And from thy hale and parted lips the breath
Must steal away in one low wintry sigh.
Farewell o Autumn! high among the stars
Pale Winter watches from his icy bars.
Farewell, the last dear bird, the last sweet
Farewell, ye rustling woods, ye pleasant
dalesl
And rings the knell of Summer in his gales;
Yet Winter hath glory and grace,
And wears kind heavens smile upon his face
Ernest W. Shi~tlef. in Youths Companion.