The increase of her harvest treasury;
While golden wine, from Nature's brimming cup,
Quickens her pulse to love-toned melody.
Full choiréd praise from countless glad throats break,
More dazzling bright doth gleam night's dewy eyes;
A newer witchery doth the great moon wake;
More mellow languisheth the bending skies:
Thus, through the heart Life's Summer-sun comes stealing,
Spring's wildest promise in Love's fulness sealing.

* * * *

AUTUMN.

Athwart the ripe, red sunshine fitfully,
Like withering doubts through Love's warm, flushing breast,
With wailing voice of saddest augury,
Sweeps from the frozen North a phantom guest.
With icy finger on each yellow leaf
Writes he the history of the dying year.
Love's harvest reaped, the grainless stalk and sheaf--
Like plundered hearts, unkerneled of sweet cheer--
Lie black and bare, exposed to rudest tread:
While still, with semblance of the Summer brave,
Soft, pitying airs float o'er its cold death-bed;
Bright flowers and motley leaves flaunt o'er its grave:
As in Earth's Autumn--so, through weeping showers,
Love sighs a mournful requiem over bygone hours.

* * * *