We sought our sorrow-stricken home, Which naught but grief discloses, Each echo there repeats a groan, Each merry laugh is now a moan, For angel Bessie sleeps alone, Beneath the summer roses.
The Autumn boughs are growing bare, The leaves are changed and falling, And dying nature everywhere Obeys grim Winter’s calling; The fields bereft of grass and grain, The waving woods deserted, The fountains gush, the songsters strain, To wailing winds converted. All nature frowns in drear dismay, As Autumn beauties pass away.
We see them all decay and die, Each bud and tree and flower, The trailing vines neglected lie, Around the summer bower; O’er slopes so lately pleasure’s haunts, The withered leaves are blowing, The broken branch, the barren bough The sterile grounds are strewing; Earth’s beauties vanish one by one, As nature’s yearly race is run.
November’s winds are bleak and cold, Its skies are gray and dreary, Its landscapes no delights unfold, To rest the eye that’s weary. There’s naught around, beneath, above, But tells of fading glory, Each lonely lawn, and leafless grove Confirms the saddened story; Earth sobs her grief, and Boreas sighs, As changing Nature droops and dies.
An early friend, of brilliant mind, In manhood’s summer stricken blind; Earth’s beauties faded day by day, Till views and visions passed away, And left a blank in the midst of bloom-- A spirit crushed in a life of gloom. A heart bowed down in manly grief, No hope of light to bring relief.
His sun is set at early noon, His rayless night ’s without a moon; His life’s bright zenith ’s clouded o’er, To him the stars will rise no more. No sunny scenes illume his way, The flowers bloom and then decay, The planets daily set and rise Before those yearning, sightless eyes.
To him, all life is one long night, The season’s change brings no delight; His vacant orbs scan nothing new, But stare in vain for one dim view Of sights and scenes of other days, When life was full of sunny rays; He’d freely give all earthly gold For one glad glimpse of scenes of old.
Familiar faces, favorite friends, That by his side in love attends; What priceless gift ’twould be for him To see those forms, though faint and dim; To trace the features, watch the eye Of loved ones, flitting fondly by, And gaze upon her gentle face, Whose charms e’en darkness can’t efface.