Classic Poem

The dead leaves strew my daily paths,
And dead hopes strew my heart.
Alas! that autumn storms must come,
And summer joys depart;
Alas! that prospects bright as morn
Should fade like day when eve comes on.

The cherished hope of early years,
Too bright for earth to hold,
The gay, glad promise of my youth,
The flower that would unfold,
Now, withered like the autumn leaves,
No more my trusting heart deceives.

I walk henceforth beneath the cloud;
My heart is shrouded now:
Yet, meekly, Father, to thy will,
That aching heart would bow.
Sunshine, thank God! is on my head,
Since only earthly hopes are dead.

What though the forms I loved so well
Are sleeping 'neath the sod!
What though the spirits once with me
Are walking now with God,
In that bright land where angels sing,
And bloom the flowers of endless spring!

There comes a day my soul shall know,
When all I hoped for here,
Forever fresh, forever bright,
Shall be my portion there:
All that the Father gives the Son
Shall share the joys by angels known.

The dead leaves in my daily path
Will one day disappear;
And vernal beauty clothe the earth,
And summer joys draw near:
So will my heart, of earth's hopes riven,
Bloom with the unfading hopes of heaven,