William James Jones

Autumn

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The autumn winds are moaning round
And through the branches sighing,
And autumn leaves upon the ground
All seared and dead are lying.

The summer flowers have ceased to bloom
For autumn frosts have blighted,
And laid them in a cheerless tomb
By summer sun unlighted.

Thus all our "fondest hopes decay"
Beneath the chill of sorrow,
The joys that brightest seem to-day
Are withered by the morrow.

But there are flowers that bloom enshrin'd
In hearts by love united,
Unscathed by the autumn wind,
By autumn frost unblighted.

And there are hearts that ever thrill
With friendship warm and glowing,
And joys unseared by sorrow's chill
With hallowed truth o'erflowing.

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