James Edward McCall, "Autumn" (1906)
Which with its frosty breath
Doth sing unto the saddened world
The monrnful song of Death.
It slays the fair and fragrant lowers
And drives the birds away
To warmer climes,'neath distant skies,
Where all is bright and gay.
Upon the meadow's verdant for
Itlays acarpet brown;
And from the sighing, frost -kissed trees
It blows the dead leaves down.
It whistles through the naked woods.
In notes both fierce and shrill.
Which echo and reverberate
From valley,glade and hill.
The tender -hearted wint'ry clouds
Shed cold tear drops of rain,
As they behold the sad,sad earth
O'er which fair flowers lie slain.
And as in pain and grief we view
Chilled Nature's gloomy face.
Thoughts of the grave file through our souls
In swift and breathless pace.
We think of dear departed friends
Gone to that other land;
And sigh to contemplate the hour
When we must cross Death's strand.
But why should we thus quake with fear
At thought of that last day?
Twere' better that we should bedeck
Our souls in pure array.
Published in Colored American Magazine, October 1906