Thou then, too, of woodlands lover,
Dusk October, berry-stained;
Wailed about of parting plover,--
Thou then, too, of woodlands lover.
Fading now are copse and cover;
Forests now are sere and waned.
Next November, limping, battered,
Blinded in a whirl of leaf;
Worn of want and travel-tattered,--
Next November, limping, battered.
Now the goodly ships are shattered,
Far at sea, on rock and reef.
Last of all the shrunk December
Cowled for age, in ashen gray;
Fading like a fading ember,--
Last of all the shrunk December.
Him regarding, men remember
Life and joy must pass away.
Between the rail of woven brass,
That hides the "Strangers' Pew,"
I hear the gray-haired vicar pass
From Section One to Two.
And somewhere on my left I see--
Whene'er I chance to look--
A soft-eyed, girl St. Cecily,
Who notes them--in a book.
Ah, worthy GOODMAN,--sound di