Sonnet XXXVII

Autumn.

Thro' changing Months a well-attemper'd Mind

Welcomes their gentle or terrific pace.—

When o'er retreating Autumn's golden grace

Tempestuous Winter spreads in every wind

Naked asperity, our musings find

Grandeur increasing, as the Glooms efface

Variety and glow.—Each solemn trace

Exalts the thoughts, from sensual joys refin'd.

Then blended in our rapt ideas rise

The vanish'd charms, that summer-suns reveal,

With all of desolation, that now lies

Dreary before us;—teach the Soul to feel

Awe in the Present, pleasure in the Past,

And to see vernal Morns in Hope's perspective cast.