Logan Republican | 1913-01-07 | Page 4 | South in the Fall

SOUTH IN THE FALL Oh, my heart It's sad and It's weary; My heart U'b a lonesome thing! I long for tho days that aro cheery; For tho days thj bright buds bring I long for tho bloom In tho brandies And I hark for a song withal, Though tho birds have fled from tho hazels Far, far to the .South with tho fall! They've loft us now that It's chilly And tho frost Is on tho leaf. They've missed nnd thoy'vo mourned the Illy And tho gold of tho garnered sheaf. They've flown from tho dim of tho woodland With tho beeches gray In tho wall. They'vo gono and tho nlsles aro lonely Tho robins nro South In tho fall! Oh, tho dew 1b heavy and shining On tho beards of tho tall gray grass, Tho tufts aro prophets repining Tho glories which como nnd pass. I gazo toward tho roso of tho morn-. morn-. Ing; I list but I hear no call. Tho day Is ushered In silence Tho robins hro South In th0 fi-1 I