Soon shall the snow-flakes flutter through the air,
Driven by eddying currents to and fro,
In curious spirals round and round career,
And bury deep the grasses' withering spear
In wild fantastic wreaths of circling snow.

Spring, summer, autumn, all have beauties rare
To captivate the heart and charm the eye.
The zephyrs gay that gently fan the air,
The far-stretched vistas of the woodlands, where
Impervious foliage veils the burning sky,

The modest flowers that deck the fields and hills,
The rainbow's arch that spans the ether blue,
The placid lakes, the gently murmuring rills
By verdure fringed, the pine's deep tone that fills
All hearers with repose, the mellow hue

Of the ripe apples hanging from the bough,
The gorgeous sunset reddening in the West,
Now gilding the encircling clouds, and now
Suffusing half the heavens with chastened glow,
The giant elms that hide the robin's nest.

These graces fair the softer seasons own,
Each its allotted portion sweetly bright.
But grander far the wintry forests lone,
The frozen lake, the frost-king's icy throne,
And flaming Sirius' distant beam by night.