p. 9 | A NOVEMBER SCENE by Rosalind Young

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 3, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 48.

A NOVEMBER SCENE.

By Rosalind Young

BY ROSALIND YOUNG.

OVER the mountains a vail is spread, A vail of misty blue, And rain-clouds hang darkly overhead, Hiding the sun from view.

A frosty sharpness is in the air, Its chilling effect is seen On many a tree that now is bare, Tho once they were robed in green.

The birds are calling from tree to tree, Warbling their cheery song; But Winter will hush the rich melody, And his coming will be ere long.

The fields that of late were with verdure green, Now are empty, and brown and bare; A hush as of grief hangs over the scene, And stillness reigns everywhere.

But behind the dark clouds over the hill, And beyond the misty blue, The sun in his glory is shining still, And his beams will one day break through.

And though stern Winter, the fields and trees Will bind as with iron chain, Yet not for long will be days like these, For Summer will come again.

The earth will wake at the call of Spring, The flowing streams will obey, The birds in the tree-tops glad will sing, The gardens with flowers be gay.

And thus sometimes in this life of ours, Dark clouds overshadow our way, And hope, with her cheering, enlivening powers, Gives scarcely a glimmering ray.

Our sun is behind a dark cloud drawn, Its light and its warmth depart, Our hopes are withered, our joys are gone, And a chill rests on the heart.

We droop, and oft in our sadness pine, Our senses are numb with pain, But just one touch of the Hand Divine, Awakens our joys again.

St. Helena, Cal.