The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII: No. 353, October 2, 1886

AUTUMN

By HELEN MARION BURNSIDE

 
    The chestnut burrs are falling
        On the shining dew-steeped lawn,
    Where the swallows have been calling
        To each other since the dawn;
    For again the forest leaves,
    And the upland's crown of sheaves,
Wear the fair pathetic glory, which so quickly is withdrawn.
 
 
        And a youthful pair goes straying,
                As we used to do of old,
        With the sunlight on them playing,
                Through the elm trees' paling gold;
        And I wonder as they go,
        Pacing slowly to and fro,
Are they telling one another just such secrets as we told?
 
 
        In the cool and fragrant dunlight
                Of the woodlands, wet with dew,
        Looking out towards the sunlight
                Here I stand—but where are you?
        Where are summer's lusty leaves,
        Where the swallows from the eaves,
And the hopes, and dreams, and longings that in those old days we knew?
 
 
        Many a spring has blossomed brightly
                On the grave of a dead past,
        Many a summer has tossed lightly
                Her cast leaves upon the blast;
        And as autumn fades away
        Into winter's quiet grey,
Comes the hope: eternal springtide will give back my friend at last!