The Golden Treasury of American Songs And Lyrics

hou waitest late and com'st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, And frosts and shortening days portend The aged year is near his end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky, Blue ? blue ? as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall. chapter{Section 4TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart. W. C. Bryant.T ET me move slowly through the street, Filled with an ever-shifting train, Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain. How fast the flitting figures come! The mild, the fierce, the stony face, ? Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace. They pass ? to toil, to strife, to rest; To halls in which the feast is spread; To chambers where the funeral guest In silence sits beside the dead. And some to happy homes repair, Where children, pressing cheek to cheek, With mute caresses shall declare The tenderness they cannot speak. And some, who walk in calmness here, Shall shudder as they reach the door THE CROWDED STREET. Where one who made their dwelling dear, Its flower, its light, is seen no more. Youth, with pale cheek and slender frame, And dreams of greatness in thine eye ! Go'st thou to build an early name, Or early in the task to die ? Keen son of...