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SONGS FOR GIRLHOOD.
THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. William Cullen Bbyant.
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere;
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rab�bit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
Aud from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in
the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn
beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as
falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from
upland, glade, and glen.
Aud now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still
such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their
winter home; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though
all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood
In brighter light and softer airs a beauteous sis�terhood ?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race
« of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely
The south wind searches for the flowers whose
fragrance late he bore, Aud sighs to find them by the wood and by the
stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side ;
In the cold, moist earth we laid her, when the for�ests cast the leaf,
Aud we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief:
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,
So geutle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long
ago: And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the