68 POIDI8 0., !U.TUU
Tazu ia a boautifulapirit breatbiug now
Its meUow ricbneaa on the clu8ter'd trees,
And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,
Pouring new jtlory on the Autumn woods,
And dipping 1u wann light the pillar'd clouds.
.Morn ou the mountain, like & auwmer bird,
Lifte up her vurple wi.og, and in Ute vales
The gentle w111d, a sweet)lnd pa.asionate wooe1,
Kieaea the blushing leaf, and stirs up life
Within the eolemn wood11 of aah deep-cri!Dllon'd,
And silver beech, and m11.,Pie yellow-leaved,
Where Autumn, like a fa.tnt old man, sits down
By the w11yside a-weary. T hrough tbe trees
The golden robin moves. The purple tioch,
That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds,
.A wint11r bird, comes witb it.l pl~ntive whistle,
.And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud
l'rom cottage roofa the Wlu·bliug blue-bird sings,
And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke,
SounJa from the threalililg-fioor the bu~y flail.
L ONCIFRLLOW,TBE wiJJda breathe low ; the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from tho tree,
So gently llows the p!\rtiug breath
When good men ceMe to be •.And now, abova the dews of night,
The yellow st.'\r appe11rs ;
So faith springs in the heart of those
Whose eyea are oothed in tears.But soon the morning's happier light
Its glory shall restore,
And eyelids that nre seul'd in deuth
SheJJ wake to close no more.
l'uBUDT.