A gleam of glory on the forest dim;
And on the ear the cricket's warning song
Came in low cadence, as a parting hymn;
And Nosha gathered of the leaves of green,
And softly fell her warblings on the air,
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While deftly-wreathing russet, green, and gold,
From autumn's glory, in her raven hair.
But with each setting sun the lustre waned,
And faded with the sunshine of the day,
Until the forest's crown, reflected, gave
The leaden dulness of the clouds of gray.
The autumn winds in blasts more chilling came,
And stirred the branches of the beeches tall:
A gentle flutter, as of far-off wings, -
Naught but the leaflets rustling in their fall.
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