THE GLOOM OF AUTUMN.
   An Emblem of Old age.

   Words by Selah Gridley (1770-1826), 
   in The Mill of the Muses.
   Exeter, N.H., Timothy Gridley, 1828.
   Tune: SONS OF SORROW, Sacred Harp, p. 332.

 HAIL ye sighing sons of sorrow;
  View with me th' autumnal gloom:
 Learn from thence your fate to-morrow,
  Dead perhaps--laid in the tomb.
 See all nature fading--dying;
  Silent all things seem to mourn;
 Life from vegetation flying,
  Brings to mind the mould'ring urn.

 Oft the autumn's tempest rising,
  Makes the lofty forest nod.
 Scenes of nature--how surprising!
  Read in nature, nature's God!
 See our sovereign sole Creator,
  Lives eternal in the sky,
 While we mortals yield to nature,
  Bloom awhile--then fade and die.

 Nations die by dread Bellona,
  Through enraged tyrannic Kings;
 Just as plants by pale Pomona 
  Fall, to rise in future springs.
 Mournful scene when vegetation,
  Dies by frost, or worms devour!
 Doubly mournful when a nation,
  Dies by neighb'ring nation's power!

 Death, like war my mind depresses,
  Autumn shows me my decay,
 Calls to mind my past distresses,
  Warns me of my dying day.
 Autumn gives me melancholy,
  Strikes dejection thro' my soul,
 While I mourn my former folly,
  Waves of sorrow o'er me roll.

 Lo! I hear the air resounding,
  With expiring insect's cries!
 Oh! their moans to me are wounding,
  Emblem of my aged sighs.
 Hollow winds about are roaring,
  Noisy waters round me rise,
 While I sit my fate deploring,
  Tears fast streaming from my eyes!

 What to me are Autumn's treasures,
  Since I know no earthly joy?
 Long I've lost all youthful pleasures,
  Time must youth and health destroy.
 Pleasures once I fondly courted,
  Shar'd each bliss that youth bestows;
 But to see how then I sported,
  Now embitters all my woes.

 Age and sorrow since have blasted,
  Every youthful pleasing dream!
 Quiv'ring age with youth contrasted,
  Oh! how short our glories seem!
 As the annual frosts are cropping 
  Leaves and tendrils from the trees;
 So my friends are yearly dropping,
  Through old age, or dire disease.

 Former friends--0 how I've sought them,
  Just to cheer my drooping mind ;
 But they are gone--like leaves in autumn,
  Driv'n before the dreary wind.
 When a few more years are wasted,
  When a few more springs are o'er;
 When a few more griefs I've tasted,
  I shall fall to bloom no more.

 Fast my sun of life declining,
  Soon will set in endless night:
 But my hopes pure and refining,
  Rest in FUTURE LIFE AND LIGHT.
 Cease this fearing--trembling--sighing;--
  Death will break this sullen gloom;
 Soon my spirit, fluttering,--flying,
  MUST BE BORNE BEYOND THE TOMB.

              S. GRIDLEY


 A Masonic Paraphrase:
 RECEPTION ODE
 Perfect Master
 The Fifth Grade of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite, 
 and the Second Degree of the Ineffable Series 

 The following ode is sung by the Brethren 
   while the Candidate is admitted:
 (T. S. Webb, The Freemason's Monitor, Cicinnati: Applegate, 1858)
  Tune: GREENVILLE = SWEET AFFLICTION, Sacred Harp, p. 145 

 Come, ye sighing sons of sorrow,
  View with me your brother's tomb;
 Learn from it your fate; tomorrow,
  Death, perhaps may seal your doom.
 Sad and solemn flow our numbers,
  While disconsolate we mourn
 The loss of him who sweetly slumbers,
  Mould'ring neath the silent urn.

 Once, when full of life, he never
  Proved unfaithful to our laws,
 Zealous like him be we ever,
  To promote our glorious cause.
 To th'exalted pow'r almighty
  Softly breathe a silent prayer.
 On his sacred mound tread lightly,
  While we wipe away a tear.