Page:Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) v5.djvu/449

Rh THE FALL OF THE LEAF

God who seasons thus the year,

And sometimes kindly slants his rays;

For in his winter he's most near

And plainest seen upon the shortest days.

Who gently tempers now his heats,

And then his harsher cold, lest we

Should surfeit on the summer's sweets,

Or pine upon the winter's crudity.

A sober mind will walk alone,

Apart from nature, if need be,

And only its own seasons own;

For nature leaving its humanity.

Sometimes a late autumnal thought

Has crossed my mind in green July,

And to its early freshness brought

Late ripened fruits, and an autumnal sky.

The evening of the year draws on,

The fields a later aspect wear;

Since Summer's garishness is gone,

Some grains of night tincture the noontide air.