lirik lagu ghizela rowe - anne bradstreet - autumn
of autumn moneths september is the prime
now day and night are equal in each clime
the twelfth of this sol riseth in the line
and doth in poizing libra this month shine
the vintage now is ripe, the grapes are prest
whose lively liquor oft is curs’d and blest:
for nought so good, but it may be abused
but its a precious juice when well its used
the raisins now in cl~sters dryed be
the orange, lemon dangle on the tree:
the pomegranate, the fig are ripe also
and apples now their yellow sides do show
of almonds, quinces, wardens, and of peach
the season’s now at hand of all and each
sure at this time, time first of all began
and in this moneth was made apostate man:
for then in eden was not only seen
boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green
or withered stocks, which were all dry and dead
but trees with goodly fruits replenished;
which shews nor summer, winter nor the spring
our grand~sire was of paradice made king:
nor could that temp’rate clime such difference make
if scited as the most judicious take
october is my next, we hear in this
the northern winter~blasts begin to hiss
in scorpio resideth now the sun
and his declining heat is almost done
the fruitless trees all withered now do stand
whose sapless yellow leavs, by winds are fan’d
which notes when youth and strength have past their prime
decrepit age must also have its time
the sap doth slily creep towards the earth
there rests, until the sun give it a birth
so doth old age still tend unto his grave
where also he his winter time must have;
but when the sun of righteousness draws nigh
his dead old stock, shall mount again on high
november is my last, for time doth haste
we now of winters sharpness ‘gins to tast
this moneth the sun’s in sagitarius
so farre remote, his glances warm not us
almost at shortest is the shorten’d day
the northern pole beholdeth not one ray
now greenland, groanland, finland, lapland, see
no sun, to lighten their obscurity:
poor wretches that in total darkness lye
with minds more dark then is the dark’ned sky
beaf, brawn, and pork are now in great request
and solid meats our stomacks can digest
this time warm cloaths, full diet, and good fires
our pinched flesh, and hungry mawes requires:
old, cold, dry age and earth autumn resembles
and melancholy which most of all dissembles
i must be short, and shorts, the short’ned day
what winter hath to tell, now let him say
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