The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . comrades, frost stricken, and dead. The sun through the tree tops was streamingOn diamonds that gracefully swung,On beads was in radiance gleaming,That dews with chilled fingers had leaves heard the silent voice callingThe voice of their Orient on them his warm beams were rose with inaudible wing, And those that were quietly lyingWhen matted together by stirred and were everywhere flying,By winds of the Autumn were challenged each other and wrestledTill weary, then scattering broke,Or quail-like, th
The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . comrades, frost stricken, and dead. The sun through the tree tops was streamingOn diamonds that gracefully swung,On beads was in radiance gleaming,That dews with chilled fingers had leaves heard the silent voice callingThe voice of their Orient on them his warm beams were rose with inaudible wing, And those that were quietly lyingWhen matted together by stirred and were everywhere flying,By winds of the Autumn were challenged each other and wrestledTill weary, then scattering broke,Or quail-like, they cozily nestledBeneath the old fostering oak. My feet, as they stood on the pillows And beds that the fallen leaves made, Bent them down, like the bright golden willows, When snows on their branches are laid. As slowly among them I waded, I found that their bright hues had t^.ed; The crimson and scarlet had faded, Though worn by their mates overhead. I saw in the sky, far away,A band of a deep, inky it, there gracefully lay. In exquisite setting of blue,Such tints as the rainbows prepare,In which I, delighted, could seeThe colors I mourned in despairThe sun and the frost had set free. Those charms in no tongue could be told;My soul was entranced with the viewAs each did its beauty unfoldOn Heavens broad canvas of artists the sun and the frostTo garner the Autumns rich dyesWith which they in figures embossedIn bright panorama the skies. September 22, 1889. A VIEW FROM MOUNT WILSONS TRAIL,PASADENA, CAL. I bare my brow: in awe and reverence stand Supported by this rock, far up the mountain grand. Adjured by reeling brain, my eyes to closely veil. The while my feet, uncertain, tread this thread-like trail. Nor dare I cast my gaze far down that deep abyss, While I that strange temptation feel, to leap from this Steep, beetling crag, to yonder dark coned pines, so tall, And those broad sycamores; which promise, if I fall To catch me in their broad embrace, and g
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidpoeticalwork, bookyear1906
