The Democratic Pioneer

THE FALLEN LEAVES.
We stand amid the fallen leaves,
Young children at our play,
And laugh to see the yellow things
Go rustling on their way:
Right merrily, we hunt them down,
The autumn winds and we,
Nor pause to gaze where snowdrifts lie;
Or sunbeam, gild the tree:
With dancing feet we leap along,
Where withered boughs are strown,
Nor past nor future checks our song,
The present is our own.
We stand among the fallen leaves
In youth's enchanted spring-
When hope -who wearies at the last-
First spreads its eagle wing:
We tread with steps of conscious strength
Beneath the leafless trees,
And the color kindles in our cheek,
As blows the winter breeze.
When gazing towards the cold grey sky,
Clouded with snow and rain,
We wish the old year all past by,
And the young spring come again.
We stand among the fallen leaves,
In manhood's haughty prime,
When first our pausing hearts begin
To love the olden time;
And as we gaze, we sigh to think
How many a year hath past,
Since 'neath those old and faded trees,
Our footsteps wandered last-
And old companions, now, perchance,
Estranged, forgot, or dead,
Come round us, as those autumn leaves,
Are crushed beneath our tread.
We stand among the fallen leaves,
In our own autumn day,
And tottering on with feeble steps,
Pursue our cheerless way-
We look not back--too long ago,
Hath all we loved been lost,
Nor forward; for we may not live
To see our new hopes crossed:
But on we go-the sun's faint beam
A feeble warmth imparts,
Childhood without its joys returns,
The present fills our hearts.