The Hushed Winds Their Sabbath Keep.

But Winter Has Yet Brighter Scenes-he Boasts Splendors Beyond What Gorgeous Summer Knows; Or Autumn With His Many Fruits, And Woods All Flushed With Many Hues.

I Hear The Howl Of The Wind That Brings The Long Drear Storm On Its Heavy Wings.

Flowers Spring Up Unsown And Die Ungathered.

Glorious Are The Woods In Their Latest Gold And Crimson.

All Things That Are On Earth Shall Wholly Pass Away, Except The Love Of God, Which Shall Live And Last For Aye.