Retrospect

Gone are the bees, That roam the field, When summer's blooms are sweet; Bare are the trees, Whose cool shades yield Relief, from mid-day heat. Hushed are the birds We love to hear, The robin, and the lark ; Nor can these words Describe how dear Their song, as falls the dark ! Gray is the sky, And overcast; The purling brook is still; The brown leaves lie, (Their time is past,) The wind is bleak and chill.

Gone are the joys Of summer days, Portrayed in fire-place ember; Now, come the toys, And Christmas lays, 'Tis late in cold December!