I. WHILE not a leaf seems faded, while the fields, With ripening harvest prodigally fair, In brightest sunshine bask, this nipping air, Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields His icy scymetar, a foretaste yields Of bitter change — and bids the Flowers beware; And whispers to the silent Birds, "Prepare Against the threatening Foe your trustiest shields." For me, who under kindlier laws belong To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry Through the green leaves, and yon crystalline sky, Announce a season potent to renew, Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song, – And nobler cares than listless summer knew. II. THIS, AND THE TWO FOLLOWING, WERE SUGGESTED BY MR. W. WESTALL'S VIEWS OF THE CAVES, &C. IN YORKSHIRE. PURE element of waters! wheresoe'er Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts, [plants, For * Waters (as Mr. Westall informs us in the letter-press prefixed to his admirable views) are invariably found to flow through these caverns. |