144 THE MARCH OF THE SEASONS 



As if in autumn's dying days 

 It heard the heavenly song afar, 



And opened all its glowing rays, 



The herald lamp of Bethlehem's star. 



Orphan of summer, kindly sent 



To cheer the fading year's decline, 

 In all that pitying Heaven has lent 



No fairer pledge of hope than thine. 

 Yes ! June lies hid beneath the snow, 



And winter's unborn heir shall claim 

 For every seed that sleeps below 



A spark that kindles into flame. 



Thy smile the scowl of winter braves, 



Last of the bright-robed, flowery train, 

 Soft sighing o'er the garden graves, 



" Farewell ! farewell ! we meet again ! " 

 So may life's chill November bring 



Hope's golden flower, the last of all, 

 Before we hear the angels sing 



Where blossoms never fade and fall ! 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



SONG 



A SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours, 

 Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers : 



To himself he talks ; 

 For at eventide, listening earnestly, 

 At his work you may hear him sob and sigh 



Jn the walks; 



