Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/154

 138 WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER. [lS30-iO. To clothe anew the earth, when comes again The quickening breath of spring. And on the place Where fall the ripened nuts, the frosty night Will heap the sti-icken leaves ; and thence shall spring, In many an after-age, another growth Of stately trees, when those around me now. Fallen with eld, shall moulder, and enrich The ground that now sustains their lofty pride. Changing, forever changing ! So depart The glories of the old majestic wood; So pass the pride and garniture of fields, The growth of ages, and the bloom of days. Into the dust of centuries ; and so Ai-e both renewed. The scattered tribes of men, The generations of the populous earth, All have their seasons too. And jocund youth Is the green spring-time — manhood's lusty strength Is the maturing summer — hoary age Types well the autumn of the year — and death Is the real winter, which forecloses all. And shall the forests have another Spring, And shall the fields another garland WCCli, And shall the worm come forth, renewed in life. And clothed upon with beauty, and not man ? ]V[o! — in the Book before me now, I read Another language, and my faith is sure, Tliat though the chains of death may hold it long, This mortal will o'ermaster them, and break Away, and put on immortality. AUGUST. Dust on thy mantle ! dust. Bright Summer, on thy livery of green ! A tarnish, as of rust. Dims thy late-brilliant sheen : And thy young glories — leaf, and bud, and flower — Change cometh over them with every hour. Thee hath the August sun Looked on with hot, and fierce, and brassy face : And still and lazily run. Scarce whispering in their pace, The half-dried rivulets, that lately sent A shout of gladness up, as on they went. Flame-like, the long mid-day — With not so much of sweet air as hath stirr'd The down upon the spray. Where rests the panting bird, Dozing away the hot and tedious noon, With fitful twitter, sadly out of tune. Seeds in the sultry air. And gossamer web-work on the sleeping trees ! E'en the tall pines, that rear Their plumes to catch the breeze. The slightest breeze from the uufreshen- ing west, Partake the general languor, and deep rest. Hajipy, as man may be, Stretch'd on his back, in homely bean-vine bovver, While the voluptuous bee Robs each surrounding flower, And prattling childhood clambers o'er his breast, The husbandman enjoys his noonday rest. Against the hazy sky The thin and fleecy clouds, unmoving, rest. Beneath them far, vet hiiih