Page:The Romance of Nature; or, The Flower-Seasons Illustrated.djvu/386

252 Whose array is chill, and dark, and dim—

It irked his sight,

And he longed to hold

His stern, harsh, cold

Dominion o'er all the shivering land,

And grasp it tight in his frosty hand.

He threw o'er the earth a wrathful look;

The Sun grew pale, and the strong trees shook,

At the icy glance of his withering eye;

And then his loud voice came rushing by,

Calling to Autumn; he bade her fling

Prone to the earth each verdant thing

That bloomed in the path of the cold Ice-king.

"Thy reign is o'er"—he sternly cried,

"Passing away are thy power and pride,

Thy golden throne

Is carried away from the bare hill-side;

Thy flowers all flown

From field, wood, moorland, garden, and lea,

Then yield up thy desolate realm to me.

Yet, ere thou go

Shake the last brown leaves from the forest tree,

And lay them low;

Lay them low, as a carpet spread

On the mossy ground—

Strew them around,

Beneath my feet—not o'er my head;