colby_fam_b2_f29_47

Flora

Trees were clothed in yellow. Yet the birds are singing that same
Sweet tune with which they welcomed in young blushing
May. No; 'tis Knot the same. Methinks it breathes a plaintive air,
As if the minstrel's heart were touched with sadness—
'Tis an idle fancy, and takes its hue from my own feelings,
But I almost deemed that they mourned the death of summers
Flowers. And then the breeze has a saddened noise, as it
Wantons among the boughs of yonder Locust; playing with its
Lear and faded leaves, then hearing them so quietly sway on
Its invisible wings to nestle on the earth. There is something
In the air too, that thrills upon the soul, and touches that
Chord which vibrates only in unison with Nature.
A softened blush is on that cloud—a fainter tinge
Than roses wear in June—more like the Peach blossoms
Pinky hue, yet lovelier far. Ah see it slow unfold and
Stretch its fleecy beauty on the evening sky.
The sunset ray lingers longest in its soft embrace
Long after the golden eye of day has closed in silence—
Thus sweet memories linger in the heart and cheer
The latest age with dreams of youth.
Garden Plum tree has budded out again, and a few
Snowy blossoms smile among its faded leaves. 'Tis beautiful
Even in decay. Thus age, (disgustful and unlovely to
Many eyes) yet has a heavenly guest within that makes
decay seem welcome. Sweet guest! Oh glorious hope of
Heaven! wilt thou be mine and make my age more
Bright than youthful dreams. Youth's brightest dreams
Are fleeting fancies but this is real, and will outlive
The wreck of Time and flourish in Eternity

October 11th

How calmly beautiful comes on the evening hour:
Nature sinks into a soft repose and the gentle zephyr