Autumn, 1885

Yes, Autumn comes again and finds me here, Last year I thought I should be otherwhere Than 'mid these fading falling leaves; for there, Beneath life's tree whose leaves are never sere But green throughout the great eternal year I thought to lie, and breathe the tranquil air, And see my boy who, being for earth too fair, Is fairer still in that celestial sphere.

Perchance for me his little heart did yearn; Haply to meet me at the golden gate He oft would wander, stand awhile, and turn Away to cry, "My father lingers late." Content thee, little one; my heart doth burn For thee as thine for me, but God says, "Wait!"