Autumn's Orchestra

(INSCRIBED TO ONE BEYOND SEAS)     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.     THE OVERTURE     October's orchestra plays softly on     The northern forest with its thousand strings,     And Autumn, the conductor wields anon     The Golden-rod -    The baton that he swings.     THE FIRS     There is a lonely minor chord that sings     Faintly and far along the forest ways,     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.     MOSSES     The lost wind wandering, forever grieves             Low overhead,     Above grey mosses whispering of leaves             Fallen and dead.     And through the lonely night sweeps their refrain     Like Chopin's prelude, sobbing 'neath the rain.     THE VINE     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.     THE MAPLE     I     It is the blood-hued maple straight and strong,     Voicing abroad its patriotic song.     II     Its daring colours bravely flinging forth     The ensign of the Nation of the North.     HARE-BELL     Elfin bell in azure dress,     Chiming all day long,     Ringing through the wilderness     Dulcet notes of song.     Daintiest of forest flowers     Weaving like a spell -     Music through the Autumn hours,     Little Elfin bell.     THE GIANT OAK     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,     Choked by the heralding of battle smoke,     When these gnarled branches beat their martial drum.     ASPENS     A sweet high treble threads its silvery song,     Voice of the restless aspen, fine and thin     It trills its pure soprano, light and long -     Like the vibretto of a mandolin.     FINALE     The cedar trees have sung their vesper hymn,     And now the music sleeps -     Its benediction falling where the dim     Dusk of the forest creeps.     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     Sobbing across the seas,     And waking wind, and star-reflected light     Shall voice my answering. Good-night, Good-night.