Wehaven't long until autumn turns to winter, so I thought I'd share a few lines of poetry by Frances Rolleston to celebrate autumn. These lines are taken from a poem she wrote to honor James Montgomery, well-known hymn writer of her time.
A few more days, these voices shall be mute,
Now singing in the branches, eve and morn,
And in the azure noon, the song of hope;
For now the sun descends, the year declines,
. . .
Sweet birds, I prize each failing note the more,
For coming silence; mute the many then,
And I shall listen for the wind above,
Among the murmuring boughs, or the faint tone
Of rippling streams among the broken stones,
Smoothed by the gliding waters, or at eve
To one lone songster from the distant hill,
More valued for its soleness;
. . .
That autumn songster has beheld the fall
Of his sweet summer bower, his hopes of spring,
And sadness mingles with his notes of joy.