  O winds! why sound so mournful? ’Tis the grand autumnal time; The world is dressed in splendor, And all things are sublime. There’s a fulness in the vales, Fraught with blessings rich and rare; Ripe fruits bedeck the uplands And hillsides everywhere. O winds! why sigh so mournful Through the forest’s golden sheen? More touchingly beautiful Than all the summer’s green. ’Tis true the leaves are falling, The forest glades along; The birds are fleeing southward, I hear their farewell song. O winds! I, too, am mournful O’er the things that cannot be, And thoughts that crowd my bosom Sob like waves along the sea. O voices, long, long silent! O faces, long hid away! Your presence breathes around me With the mournful winds to-day. |
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