The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1912-12-12
THE DYING AUTUMN DA VS..

THE DYING AUTUMN DAYS.
The beautiful Autumn days are dying, |
nearly dead. How gently, softly into the
silence of the night, steals her song OF sor-
row. 1t trembles with hushed tenderness
of tone through the aisles and bowers OF the
forest where it seems to whisper prophecy
of coming nakedness and desolation. 1t
flows with mournful cadence along the
meadows where the streams will soon be
chilled into silence and loose their babbllng
merriment, and all the flowers will fade into
dust and ashes, whilst the twinkling rays
of the far off stars gather into tear-drops
as they touch the current of its low, sad
melody, Beautiful exceedingly they are,
with that touching tinge of sadness about
them, which is ever beauty's most impress
sive charm.
Yes. the beautiful days of Autumn have
nearly fled. Alone upon the hills the
shades of evening slowly creep like death
shades DER an old mans soul. The sun
sheds but faint and glimmering light
through the thick haze that gathers around
him as he sinks to rest upon the ocean bed.
All nature is hushed and still, bird and
beast and breeze, the voice of man, the
murmur Of the streams come not to disturb
the sacred silence of the hour in which all
things seemed wrapped in silent grief
mourning the departed glory of the bright
and beautiful Summer time. What an hour
for thought, wandering alone far from the
busy haunts of men, their cares and their
pleasures-am the undisturbed solitude
of the woods.
'sThe Summer is gone, the harvest is
past'' Since last we wandered along our
favorite path what change has passed
over the scene! The sweet flowers that
bloomed all around, filling the air with their
rich perfume, the blue violets raising their
heads to be kissed by the passing breeze,
the wild honeysuckle, and all the beauteous
sisterhood have yielded to the blighting
influence of Autumn and have gone down
to the dust from which they sprung.
"Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered
leaves lie dead;
They rustic to the eddying gust, and to the rabbits
tread"
But no more, in the green glory of the
Summer, to the merry piping of the even
ing's winds as they joyously roam through
the shady forest aisles. 1t brings feeling
of keen regret, almost as if we were com.
hitting sacrilege, when we crush them be-
meath our feet. Yes, the beauty from TIT
forest has departed. The gay festoons o
green which Spring, in her benifcence, hat
hung so gracefully upon the proudly tower
ing branches of it's trees have been swep
away by the pitiless winds, and they ar
now traced in dull, dark nakenness upol
the cold and misty sky.
No verdure is left save upon the pin
and scattering holly and cedar trees, whicl
present to the eye the same lifeless greer
in Spring, in Summer, in Autumn, and il
Winter-never varying-never changing
like the heart of stoics over which SWEEP
with like effect the songs of mirth or tn
lamentations Of sorrow. Amid the naked
ness and desolation around, they stand GU
like those green spots in the waste, whicl
memory spreads out before the vision O
the breaking heart, on which though it ma
repose for awhile, it brings no soothing
influence to heal its sorrows.
Although the Autumn days are dying,
few royal tints still linger, as it were, t
shake off the floating vapors. There are n
tears in their eyes, but the mists are gather
ing there, which tell of tears to come. Fo
whilst the year, as it has passed, has poure
her hounteous yield into the gamers of til
husbandmen, poverty, want, suffering, hun
ger and cold, will follow in their footster
for the desolate children of human nifty Th
surly blasts of December will find their WI
into many a stricken homestead upo
whose hearthstone no fire will be kindlet
where poverty sits croaking its dismal mon
otone upon household affairs, around whic
are gathered helpless ones, who cry #
bread, and for the poor pittance whic
should shield them from the pinching cold
HIM in lon Of MI in +
midst Of warmth, denied the common con
forts of life, whilst so many are burdene
with luxuries.
No wonder that this beautiful seaso
leaves US with her heart throbbing wi,
tenderness and pity-well may it sigh ar
weep as it looks behind and sees who ar
what are following so closely-the lea
lank, wild-eyed. pale and ghostly crew
human miseries.