A GAIN , again, and yet again,
I have sung of thee, October!
Ah! not in joyous, jocund strain—
Grave the lay, subdued, and sober—
The waning life, and waning year,
Gravely, calmly, sympathizing;
The thin grey locks, and woodlands sere,
Mutely, fitly, harmonizing.

Young budding April, blooming May,
Flowery June, and July glowing,
Each in their turn a tribute lay,
August in thy lap o'erflowing
See September's tresses yellow,
Waving o'er her teeming bosom,
Crown'd with fruitage rich and mellow,
Born of many a summer blossom.

October breathing on the bowers,
Through the yellow woods is stealing;
'Mid falling leaves and faded flowers,
Nature's dying form revealing.
No cooing dove, no warbler gay,
Is singing in the branches now;
Yet soft the chasten'd sunbeams play,
October, on thy placid brow.

I walk abroad, a holy calm
Breathes in the atmosphere around;
A sweetly sad, yet soothing balm,
A deep repose, a peace profound.
October! wanes my life like thine,
Gone youthful summer's fervid glow;
Buds, leaves, and flowers, that erst were mine,
Are wither'd, sere, and fallen low.

Pale nature, chill'd by cold decay,
Lies fainting in the arms of death;
While I repeat as on I stray,
How fleeting, fading, all beneath!
From earth to heaven I raise my eyes,
And see a soften'd glory spread
In mildest radiance o'er the skies,
More swift than summer's suns have shed.

God of my life, when life shall fail,
When dark the windows of my soul,
All things of earth decayed and stale,
And death's dark waters near me roll.
Oh, when I walk through death's dark vale,
Father of lights! my path illume
With light divine that will not pale,
Even in the shadows of the tomb.