How chang’d the scene — but now the Summer reign’d, her varied tints prevail’d throughout triumphant. Here where the beauteous rosebud sat a briar frowns — the woodbine too hath lost her suit of brilliant green — the leafless grove is silent, desolate! No songster cheers with merry note the passing hour. The hum of Bees is hus’d and all around proclaims, tht Winter is at hand — how clear.