198 
ROSE. 
It is this which gives Autumn its magic charm 
Of pensive delight to the thoughtful mind ; 
Its shadowy splendours excite no alarm, 
Though we know that Winter lingers behind; 
We rejoice that Spring will again restore 
Every grace that enchanted the eye before ; 
And we feel that, when Nature’s first bloom 
is o’er, 
Her dearest and loveliest aspect we find. 
The autumnal blasts, which whirl while we 
listen; 
The wan, sear leaf, like a floating toy ; 
The bright round drops of dew, which glisten 
On the grass at morn; and the sunshine coy, 
Which comes and goes like a smile when 
wooed; 
The auburn meads and the foamy flood. 
Each sight and sound, in a musing mood, 
Give birth to sensations superior to joy. 
