[
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
.