AN AUTUMN LYRIC.
High o cr the forest the storm clouds are flying, The little birds haste to the South and the aun ; Darling, the red leaves are dropping and dying ; Darling, how soon is life over and done I Hardly the hawthorn tree blossoms and blushes. Hardly has opened the first rose of May, Scarce o'er the heart love tumultuous rushes, Ere the roue petals fall— and all passeß away. The love and the weeping— the rapture and sorrow, Are they but dreams that come never again ? What will be left when the day knows no morrow ? Darling, we sigh, but we question in vain. Though the perfumes be shed and the rose leaves be -t blighted, The new year must come and the new roses blow ; And lovers will kiss, and their vows shall be plighted On the green of our graves, while we slumber below. —Translation by Florence Hbnniker, for Blackwood's Magazine.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18900515.2.127
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 1892, 15 May 1890, Page 34
Word Count
155AN AUTUMN LYRIC. Otago Witness, Issue 1892, 15 May 1890, Page 34
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