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Article AUTUMN HOURS. Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Autumn Hours.
AUTUMN HOURS .
AUTUMN hours , autumn hours , Far , I ween , our thoughts must stray , As mid both " shine and shower " Your stately moments fleet a-way . Summer in its golden glory Has vanished all apace , And with your graver story You wane in calmest grace .
How like to life you are , In all your scenes and ways ; In bright moments few and far , And your swiftly passing days : For summer ' s sheen is o ' er , Its glad hours disappear , And on Time ' s silent shore Lie your mern ' ries glad and dear .
Autumn hours , autumn hours , Your gleams of burnish'd gold Fall on our summer bowers , As the year itself grows old . Your leaves are no more green , Your festive scenes have flown ; And all those brighter sunny scenes You call no more your own .
Yet such are life and time , All our good things fade away ; Bright dreams and hopes sublime Cease with a short-lived day . All , all is doom'd to fade , All that we see below , The things our hands have made , The hearts we love , the friends we know .
Autumn hours , autumn hours , Like the scene of life ' s repose , And the fading of the flowers , And the withering of the rose , All is passing—passing slowly—All must end with earthly day ; Highest aims and labours lowly , Like your moments fleet away . F ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Autumn Hours.
AUTUMN HOURS .
AUTUMN hours , autumn hours , Far , I ween , our thoughts must stray , As mid both " shine and shower " Your stately moments fleet a-way . Summer in its golden glory Has vanished all apace , And with your graver story You wane in calmest grace .
How like to life you are , In all your scenes and ways ; In bright moments few and far , And your swiftly passing days : For summer ' s sheen is o ' er , Its glad hours disappear , And on Time ' s silent shore Lie your mern ' ries glad and dear .
Autumn hours , autumn hours , Your gleams of burnish'd gold Fall on our summer bowers , As the year itself grows old . Your leaves are no more green , Your festive scenes have flown ; And all those brighter sunny scenes You call no more your own .
Yet such are life and time , All our good things fade away ; Bright dreams and hopes sublime Cease with a short-lived day . All , all is doom'd to fade , All that we see below , The things our hands have made , The hearts we love , the friends we know .
Autumn hours , autumn hours , Like the scene of life ' s repose , And the fading of the flowers , And the withering of the rose , All is passing—passing slowly—All must end with earthly day ; Highest aims and labours lowly , Like your moments fleet away . F ,