ghizela rowe - indian summer - henry van dyke lyrics
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a soft veil dims the tender skies
and half conceals from pensive eyes
the bronzing tokens of the fall;
a calmness broods upon the hills
and summer’s parting dream distills
a charm of silence over all
the stacks of corn, in brown array
stand waiting through the placid day
like tattered wigwams on the plain;
the tribes that find a shelter there
are phantom peoples, forms of air
and ghosts of vanished joy and pain
at evening when the crimson crest
of sunset passеs down the west
i hear thе whispering host returning;
on far+off fields, by elm and oak
i see the lights, i smell the smoke,—
the camp+fires of the past are burning
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