BETA

Waning.

The autumn days are waning, and the gold is on the
leaf,1
The gold and crimson tint that paints with splendour
bright and brief2
The grand old oaks. The copper-red is on the bending
beech,3
The brown nuts rustle ripe and full above the school-
boy’s reach.4
The swallows gather ’neath the eaves ; the first dull
cloudy day5
Will bear them all, on eager wings, to sunnier climes
away :6
So is it oft, with us, alas ! Our brief bright summer
ends,7
Comes winter resolute and stern; away troop summer
friends.8
The last rose blushes on her stem, in beauty all alone,9
Weeps summer gone, and sighs upon her solitary
throne ;10
So is it with us at life’s end. What reck, or pomp, or
gold11
If hairs grow grey, and we without some light of love,
grow old ?12
Pray God, there be not, one of us, whoever he may be,13
Without some friend whom he may love, some child
upon his knee !14
True love and friendship ever shine, with lustre all
their own,15
Since man was never made to live, and work, and die—
alone !16