I walked alone in depths of autumn woods; <br />The ruthless winds had left the maple bare <br />The fern was withered, and the sweetbrier's breath <br />No longer gave its fragrance to the air. <br /> <br />The barberry strung its coral beads no more; <br />The thistle-down on gauzy wings had flown; <br />And myriad leaves, on which the Summer wrote <br />Her blushing farewells, at my feet were strown. <br /> <br />A loneliness pervaded every spot; <br />A gloom of which my musing soul partook; <br />All Nature mourns, I said; November wild <br />Hath torn the fairest pages from her book. <br /> <br />But suddenly a wild bird overhead <br />Poured forth a note so strangely clear and sweet, <br />It seemed to bring me back the skies of May, <br />And wake the sleeping violets at my feet. <br /> <br />Then long I pondered o'er the poet's words, <br />' The loss of beauty is not always loss,' <br />Till like the voice of love they soothed my pain, <br />And gave me strength to bear again my cross. <br /> <br />O murmuring heart! thy pleasures may decay, <br />Thy faith grow cold, thy golden dreams take wing; <br />Still in the realm of faded youth and joy, <br />Heaven kindly leaves some bird of hope to sing.<br /><br />Albert Laighton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-woods-8/
