AUTUMN’S
ORCHESTRA
(INSCRIBED TO ONE BEYOND SEAS)
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Know
by the thread of music woven through
This fragile web of cadences I spin,
That I have only caught these songs since you
Voiced them upon your haunting violin.
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THE OVERTURE
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| October’s
orchestra plays softly on |
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The
northern forest with its thousand strings,
And Autumn, the conductor wields anon
The Golden-rod—The baton that he swings.
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THE FIRS
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There
is a lonely minor chord that sings
Faintly and far along the
forest ways,
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When
the firs finger faintly on the strings
Of that rare violin the
night wind plays,
Just as it whispered once
to you and me
Beneath the English pines
beyond the sea.
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MOSSES
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| The
lost wind wandering, forever grieves |
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Low
overhead,
Above
grey mosses whispering of leaves
Fallen
and dead. [Page 139]
And
through the lonely night sweeps their refrain
Like
Chopin’s prelude, sobbing ’neath the
rain.
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THE VINE
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The
wild grape mantling the trail and tree,
Festoons in graceful veils
its drapery,
Its tendrils cling, as clings
the memory stirred
By some evasive haunting
tune, twice heard.
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THE MAPLE
I
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| It
is the blood-hued maple straight and strong, |
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| Voicing
abroad its patriot songs. |
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II
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Its
daring colours bravely flinging forth
The ensign of the Nation
of the North.
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HARE-BELL
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Elfin
bell in azure dress,
Chiming
all day long,
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Ringing
through the wilderness
Dulcet
notes of song.
Daintiest
of forest flowers
Weaving
like a spell—
Music
through the Autumn hours,
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Little
Elfin bell. [Page 140] |
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THE GIANT OAK
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And
then the sound of marching armies ’woke
Amid the branches of the soldier oak,
And tempests ceased their warring cry, and dumb
The lashing storms that muttered, overcome,
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Choked
by the heralding of the battle smoke,
When these gnarled branches beat their martial drum.
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ASPENS
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A
sweet high treble threads its silvery song,
Voice
of the restless aspen, fine and thin
It
thrills its pure soprano, light and long—
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| Like
the vibretto of a mandolin. |
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FINALE
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The
cedar trees have sung their vesper hymn,
And now the music sleeps—
Its benediction falling where the dim
Dusk of the forest creeps.
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Mute
grows the great concerto—and the light
Of day is darkening, Good-night, Good-night.
But through the night time I shall hear within
The murmur of these trees,
The calling of your distant violin
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Sobbing
across the seas,
And waking wind, and star-reflected light
Shall voice my answering. Good-night, Good-night.
[Page 141]
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