107 
Nasturtium. — ‘ Passing away.' 
Who has not speculated upon the brevity of life, until the fair 
things of earth seemed rapidly passing from his possession ? The 
following stanzas were written on a rainy day in September. 
The Summer’s leaves were fair and bright, 
But now upon their boughs they fade; 
Already has the withering blight 
Of Autumn, ruthless havoc made; 
The gay, the beautiful, the pride 
Of August droop, — and some have died! 
The sun in splendor rose to-day, 
His glories beamed far o’er the world; 
But clouds arose, obscured each ray, 
And raindrops soon the flowers impearled; 
Those flowers, how sweet! yet even they 
Begin their early, sure decay! 
