Noontide. 'Tis gone, and he is musing left ;— What if in such array Our Saviour through the aërial cleft Rose on Ascension Day? That hour, a glorious cloud, we know, While pastoral eyes were strained below Oh if but once such awful thought, At night or noontide, came unsought, Surely thou durst not let it go; Wondering what mortal first shall view The dread returning sign, When the strong portals, raised anew, 205 The sun of Autumn climbs full fast; He will have quaffed each drop of dew, Come, quit your toys, and haste away. But mark ye may not leave behind Your store of smiles, your gladsome talk and gay, Your pure thoughts, fashioned to your Master's mind. Blithe be your course, yet bear in heart The lame and old, and help them on ; Yon slumbering infant in the shade,— While others glean. The work with singing aid, Sing softly in your heart all day Sweet carols to the Harvest's Lord, So shall ye chase those evil powers away That walk at noon-rude gaze and wanton word. The Gleaners. But see the tall elm shadows reach Athwart the field, the rooks fly home, 209 The light streams gorgeous up the o'er-arching beech, With the calm hour soft weary fancies come. In heaven the low red harvest moon, The glow-worm on the dewy ground, Will light us home with our glad burdens soon ; Grave be our evening prayers, our slumbers sound. A 6. AUTUMN BUDS. "The children crying in the Temple, Hosanna to the Son of David." How fast these autumn leaves decay!- And many a bud thine eye will meet The showers and gleams of spring. Such buds of hope are Advent hours: Soft carols faintly ring. So when our Lord in meekness rode Touched by the frost-wind's wing. |