258 ;©*atf) of tije jFIototW. 
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the 
wood, 
And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn 
beauty stood, 
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls 
the plague on men, 
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from up¬ 
land, glade, and glen. 
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such 
days will come, 
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter 
home; 
"When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all 
the trees are still, 
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, 
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fra¬ 
grance late he bore, 
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the streams 
no more. 
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty 
died, 
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my 
side: 
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest 
cast the leaf, 
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so 
brief: 
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend 
of ours, 
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the 
flowers. 
Bryant. 
