Our Canadian Woods In Early Autumn.

I have passed the day 'mid the forest gay,         In its gorgeous autumn dyes,     Its tints as bright and as fair to the sight         As the hues of our sunset skies;     And the sun's glad rays veiled by golden haze,         Streamed down 'neath its arches grand,     And with magic power made scene and hour         Like a dream of Faerie Land.     The emerald sheen of the maple green         Is turned to deep, rich red;     And the boughs entwine with the crimson vine         That is climbing overhead;     While, like golden sheaves, the saffron leaves         Of the sycamore strew the ground,     'Neath birches old, clad in shimmering gold,         Or the ash with red berries crowned.     Stately and tall, o'er its sisters all,         Stands the poplar, proud and lone,     Every silvery leaf in restless grief         Laments for the summer flown;     While each oak and elm of the sylvan realm,         In brilliant garb arrayed,     With each other vie, 'neath the autumn sky,         In beauty of form and shade     When wearied the gaze with the vivid blaze         Of rich tints before it spread -     Gay orange and gold, with shades untold         Of glowing carmine and red -     It can turn 'mid the scene to the sombre green         Of the fir, the hemlock, the pine,     Ever-keeping their hue, and their freshness, too,         'Mid the season's swift decline.     Though the bird's sweet song, that the summer long         Hath flowed so sweet and clear     Through the cool, dim shades of our forest glades,         No longer charms the ear,     A witching spell, that will please as well         As his glad notes, may be found     In the solemn hush, or the leaves' soft rush,         As they thickly strew the ground.     For, though they tell of summer's farewell,         Of their own decay and doom,     Of the wild storm-cloud and the snow's cold shroud,         And the days of winter's gloom,     The heart must yield to the power they wield, -         Alike tender, soothing, gay -     The beauties that gleam and that reign supreme         In our woods, this autumn day.