We wandered off together,
We walked in dreamful ease,
In mellow autumn weather,
Past autumn-tinted trees;
The breath of soft September
Left fragrance in the air,
And well do I remember,
I thought you true as fair.
The maples' deep carnations,
The beeches' silv'ry sheen,
Hid nature's sad mutations,
And I forgot the green:
Forgot the green of summer,
The buds of early spring,
And gave the latest comer
My false heart's offering.
O painted autumn roses!
O dying autumn leaves!
Your beauty fades and closes,
That gaudy hue deceives:
Like clouds that gather golden
Around the setting sun,
Your glories are beholden
Just ere the day is done.
Or, like th' electric flushes
That fire Canadian skies,
Your bright and changeful blushes
In gold and crimson rise.
But health has long departed
From all that hectic glare;
And love sees, broken-hearted,
The fate that's pictured there.
The brush that paints so brightly
No mortal artist wields;
He touches all things lightly,
But sweeps the broadest fields.
The fairest flowers are chosen
To wither at his breath;
The hand is cold and frozen
That paints those hues of death.
We wandered back together,
With hearts but ill at ease,
In mellow autumn weather,
Past autumn-tinted trees;
The breath of soft September
Left fragrance in the air,
And well we both remember
The love that ended there.