[SONG.]

HOW fondly I gaze on the fast falling-leaves,
 That mark, as I wander, the summer's decline;
 And then I exclaim, while my conscious heart heaves,
 "Thus early to droop and to perish be mine!" 

Yet once I remember, in moments long past,
 Most dear to my sight was the spring's opening bloom;
 But then my youth's spring sorrow had not o'ercast,
 Nor taught me with fondness to look on the tomb. 

Fair Spring! now no longer these grief-faded eyes
 Thy rich glowing beauties with pleasure can see;
 Thy pale sickly hues, chilly Autumn, I prize,
 They suit blighted hopes, and are emblems of me.