Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
 And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
 Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
 The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
 Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,
 May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
 Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
 You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
 Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
 That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
 When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
 When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
 When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
 Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
 That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
 Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
 The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
 Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
 The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
 Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
 Can ne'er be desolate.