Paul Hamilton Hayne - October lyrics

The pa**ionate summer's dead! the sky's aglow With roseate flushes of matured desire, The winds at eve are musical and low, As sweeping chords of a lamenting lyre, Far up among the pillared clouds of fire, Whose pomp of strange procession upward rolls, With gorgeous blazonry of pictured scrolls, To celebrate the summer's past renown; Ah, me! how regally the heavens look down O'ershadowing beautiful autumnal woods And harvest fields with hoarded increase brown And deep-toned majesty of golden floods That raise their solemn dirges to the sky, To swell the purple pomp that floateth by.