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Title: It Is But An Autumn Leaflet
Author: Hannah S. Battersby [
More Titles by Battersby]
It is but a bright autumn leaflet,
Blown adrift from the fond parent stem,
To wither and perish in silence,
Like many a flowering gem;
But I gathered the flame-tinted treasure,
As it fluttering fell at my feet,
To send to my own absent darling,
Her radiant glances to greet.
It grew in the grand air of freedom,
From the heart of the mountain sod,
Fulfilling its destiny gladly,
In cheerful obedience to God.
It struggled through life well and bravely,
'Gainst wind, cruel night, frost and storm,
Which gained it that bright sheen of glory,
Its fond dying face to adorn.
'Tis said that the song of the bulbul,
Floating sweetly through calm moonlit skies,
As he sings to his dearly loved partner,
Is the sweetest just ere he dies;
So it seemed that the leaflet whilst dying,
Was discoursing of love from its core,
Which gave it a beauty and glory
It had never appeared in before.
It spoke of a life in the future,
Transcending the glory of this,
Where hearts in harmonious concert,
Would form an existence of bliss.
So I gathered the love-freighted leaflet,
Which brought such sweet message to me,
In hopes that its heavenly language,
Might be eloquent also to thee.
For I knew that the beautiful message,
Came from fond nature's glorious king,
So I linked it in rhythmical measure,
For you, my own darling, to sing.
And as your clear voice gives it utterance,
Think of her who has sent it to thee,
As a love-laden token and blessing,
From her fond heart far over the sea.
[The end]
Hannah S. Battersby's poem: It Is But An Autumn Leaflet
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