The Rhode Island Republican

POETRY.

THE CLOSE OF SUMMER.

I love to hear the mourning wind
Of Autumn:--how it charms the mind!
It has a kind emollient power,
Like summer twilight's pensive hour.

In forests ting'd with every dye,
I love to hear the dying sigh
Of summer--while her latest song,
The red-breast chants the boughs among.

I love to lose a morning dream,
To rove along the waving stream,
And see the faded village slow
Upon its surface gently flow.

At evening's hour I love to stray
Along the river's winding way:
And listen to the murmuring rill
So soft it steals adown the hill.

And mark as onward I advance,
The moon-beams on the waters dance;
And view the starry world of light,
Reflected in the mirror bright:

The heaven, within whose peaceful breast,
The weary hope ere long to rest--
There is a grandeur in the view,
A majesty and beauty too!

Shall seasons come and roll away,
And no instructive word convey?
The summer flowers that faded fell,
Of but approaching winter tell?

Whose language is to mortal ear,
All things are transitory here:
Look not with expectation's eye,
On things of earth so soon to die!

How poor the heart whose hopes of bliss,
Are center'd in a world like this!
Unconscious minds were made to soar,
Above th' enjoyments of an hour,--

For could earth's joys with ardour sought,
Be with our anxious struggles bought;
They'd lose their shining worth possess'd,
And fail to fill the vacant breast.

ANNA.