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148 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
THOUGHTS IN AUTUMN.
I started from a dream of bliss
At Autumn's plaintive wail, And each sweet thought of happiness
Fled on the passing gale. That gale awakened memory's lyre
To numbers thrilling, deep, That Autumn can alone inspire— _
I turned aside to weep.
I thought how oft in early years
I started with a sigh, And turned away to hide my tears
As. the cold blast swept by; How once I wept when Autumn's tread
Among my flowers I heard— Wept when I found they all had fled
With each bright singing bird.
More bitter now the tears I shed,
But not for flowers I weep: Callista slumbers with the dead,
And Theron shares her sleep; Hazen at length grew sick, and fell
Beneath the blast of death, And Ira since has sighed " farewell,"
And fled from Autumn's breath.