THE INDIAN SUMMER. 289 



But though the flowers have faded on the hill, 



Full many an object charms the senses still ; 



For even the dark brown naked woods are full 



Of pleasant sounds and prospects never dull. 



The woody glens are open to the sun, 



Who lingers in the bowers he used to shun. 



The leafy forest windows are unclosed ; 



The ferns that summer hid are now exposed. 



The trailing evergreens and hair-like moss 



Peep through the scattered leaves, with livelier gloss; 



And many a curious relic, to reward 



The rambler's toil, is scattered o'er the sward. 



When nature hides one page, her hands unfold 



One no less bright, we could not else behold : 



And as the months perform their annual round. 



O'er beauty's grave is new-born beauty found. 



Oft in this month, with bright complacent smile,. 

 The sun dispels the frowning clouds awhile ; 

 Lifts up the misty curtain that conceals 

 The heavenly radiance summer's sky reveals ; 

 Sheds softer azure on the calm blue sea. 

 And spreads a greener verdure on the lea. 

 Shortly before December rules the year. 

 Upon the wintry skies, new signs appear ; 

 A milder planet guides the hours of night, 

 And fairer day-beams harbinger the light. 

 Thus in an hour of sorrow, when opprest 

 By anxious cares that steal away our rest, 

 Will unexpected gleams of hope arise. 

 And chase the clouded prospect from our eyes. 



The summer sun once more regains his sway ; 

 O'er the brown landscape breathes a warmer ray ; 



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