IMPRESSIONIST SKETCH 249 



saying, " Night and Morning, Death and Life ; Night and 

 Morning, Withering and Sowing ; Night and Morning, 

 Weariness and Rest ; Night and Morning." This was a 

 fancy, perhaps, as regards the bells, but it is a fact as regards 

 Autumn. 



Climb the hill above the village, and watch the sun set 

 over the withering woods. Look out over the sea of gold, 

 mingled with fire, and broken by dark rocks which you know 

 to be pines. Accept the withering, but see also the harvest- 

 fields ; even on the bare boughs there are buds. Hear the 

 birds pass overhead, quite a babel of good-byes sometimes, 

 but many at least will return. Watch the seeds drift off the 

 dead plants as the wind sighs along the hillside, and know 

 that the race continues. Look Death in the face, and try to 

 see that he is, on the whole, kindly and wise. 



Wait till the colours pale in the short twilight, till the cows 

 are driven home lowing, till the sheep are herded off the 

 exposed moorland lest snow come in the darkness, till the 

 birds that remain cease to call, till the lamps are lit in the 

 cottage windows. Wait on till the curfew tolls, till the lights 

 are put out one by one, then know the rest and silence of 

 Autumn. 



" Ueber alien Gipfeln 

 1st Ruh 



In alien Wipfeln 

 Spiirest du 

 Kaum einen Hauch ; 

 Die Vogelein schweigen im Walde 

 Warte nur, balde 

 Ruhest du auch." 



