THE crisp brown leaves break short which way we tread,
The golden faintly shiver overhead;
The lush Virginia creeper drapes the cottage
Aglow with mantling red.
Beneath, the beaded blades are spanned across
By countless dainty webs of silver floss;
While here and there a tiny sunlit brilliant
Twinkles among the moss.
Dear heart, since love first shaped our happier lot,
Some gleams of beauty lurk in every spot
To flood my soul with that divine emotion
I once so vainly sought.
I found it not where solemn Alps and grey
Draw purple glories from the newborn day;
Nor where huge sombre pines loom overhanging
Niagara’s rainbow spray;
Nor in loud psalms whose palpitating strain
Thrills the vast dome of Buonarotti’s fane;
On canvas quick with Sandro’s earnest passion,
Or Titian’s statelier vein.
This mellow autumn morning makes me wise;
Within ourselves the spring of beauty lies;
In thy true tender heart I read the secret,
In thy deep tender eyes.