The Disciple Author:George MacDonald Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: SONGS OF THE AUTUMN DAYS. " 1 7"E bore him through the golden land, One early harvest morn. The corn stood ripe on either hand- He knew all abo... more »ut the corn. How shall the harvest gathered be Without him standing by ? Without him walking on the lea, The sky is scarce a sky. The year's glad work is almost done; The land is rich in fruit; Yellow it floats in air and sun -- Earth holds it by the root . .. - - Why should earth hold it for a day, When harvest-time is come ? Death is triumphant o'er decay, And leads the perfect home. Yet shines the sun as bright and warm; All comfort is not lost; Both corn and hope, of heart and farm, Lie hid from coming frost. The woods are mournful, richly sad; Their leaves are red and gold: Are thoughts in solemn splendour clad Signs too that men grow old ? Strange odours haunt the doubtful brain From fields and days gone by; And sad-eyed memories again Are born, are loved, and die. The morning clear, the evening cool Foretell no wintery wars; The day of dying leaves is full; The night is full of stars. 'Tis late before the sun will rise; All early he will go; A vaporous frost hangs from the skies, And wets the ground below. Red fruit has followed golden corn; The -leaves are few and sere; My thoughts are old as soon as born, And gray with coming fear. The winds are still; no softest breath Floats through the branches bare; A silence as of coming death Is growing in the air. But what must fade, can bear to fade, Can stand beneath the ill: Creep on, old Winter, deathly shade! We sorrow, and are still There is no longer any heaven To glorify our clouds; The rising vapours downward driven, Come home fo...« less