The Agony of Autumn Shades

The hues admired by passing eyes

which here adorn each branch and limb

so impress the passers-by,

yet are birthed from pain within. 

Men stroll in autumn's changing air

and revel in the fiery trees;

they think of God painting so fair

these tinted bronze and golden leaves. 

But human minds could never guess

the agony of autumn shades

called forth at the divine behest 

which turn the forests into graves. 

Each colored leaf on outstretched hand

is dying slow, a death most bright.

And gently falling to the land

they move toward graves of frozen night.

This mighty maple longs for June

when plenteous stars it green unfurled

to shine in verdant green at noon--!

but now stand flushed and dry and curled.

The God in heaven has seen me proud.

What strength I had I thought was mine,

but was in truth by heav'n endowed

and now in fact by heav'n resigned.

He brings me death. My weakness bared

Is no triumph against Him, trying.

Yet as the passers-by declare,

my greatest glory is in dying.