I.

All hail, dear friend! — The winds are singing
The year's wild requiem, fitfully;
And Autumn, now, is swiftly winging
Her golden flight, o'er the heaving sea,
To some lovelier clime than this: — in sadness
Of heart, I gaze on her farewell beam; —
But away! This strain shall be one of gladness!
I'll startle thee not with a selfish theme!

II.

All hail, dear friend! — Though clouds may lour,
And wintry storms descend awhile,
Ere long shall Spring resume her power,
And Summer come on with her radiant smile
Then a truce to gloom; — though a shade of sorrow
May darken our beams of bliss to-day, —
Heed it not! — Joy's sun will rise to-morrow,
And chase each deepening tint away!

III.

Shall we, whose hearts of warmth and feeling
Vibrate to Pleasure's tenderest touch,
Supinely grieve, that Fate's hand is stealing
Some flowers of life — we have loved too much?
Shalt THOU — who cleav'st, with eagle pinion,
The loftiest skies that Genius knows,
Stoop thy plume of pride to the base dominion
Of each ruffian blast that beneath thee blows?

IV.

Forbid it, YE who prompt the numbers
That soothe the Bard in his wildest mood! —
Forbid it, YE who on his slumbers
In dreams of glory and light intrude!
No; — hearts that each thrill of joy may waken
Should bear, unmurmuring, Sorrow's sting;
Nor Genius from its height be shaken
By every buffet from Fortune's wing!