Poetry Archives

The melody of autumn
  Is the only tune I know,
And I sing it over and over
  Because it thrills me so;
It stirs anew the happy wish,
  So near to perfect bliss,
To live a little longer in
  A world like this.

The sound was never sweeter,
  The voice so nearly mute,
As beauty, dying, loses
  Her hold upon the lute;
And like the harmonies that touch
  And blend with those above,
Forever must an echo wake
  The heart of love.

Her robe of brown and coral
  And amber glistens through
Rare jewels of the morning,
  The opals of the dew,
Like royal fabrics worn beneath
  The tinselry of pearls,
Or diamond dust by fashion strewn
  On sunny curls.

If I could wrap such garments
  In true artistic style
About myself departing,
  And wear as sweet a smile
And be as guileless as the flowers
  My friends would never sigh;
’Twould reconcile them to my death
  To see me die.

And why should there be sorrow
  When dying is no more
Than ‘twixt two bright apartments
  The opening of a door
Through which the freed, enraptured soul
  From this, a paradise,
May pass to that supremely fair
  Beyond the skies?

Oh, ’twere not hard to finish
  When earth with tender grace
Prepares for her dear children
  So sweet a resting place;
And though in dissolution’s throe
  The melody be riven,
The song abruptly ended here
  Goes on in Heaven.