| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | The Pines’ Thought | | By Juliet C. Marsh |
| | | WITHIN the shadow of ourselves we stand, | |
| And see a thousand brilliancies unfold | |
| Where autumn woods, in gorgeous rain, hold | |
| One late, last revel. Upon every hand | |
| Riot of color, death in pomp and state, | 5 |
| Decay magnificent, inconstant blaze,— | |
| We have no part or splendor in these days. | |
| They shall be changed,—we are inviolate; | |
| Their voices shall be hushed on every hill, | |
| Their lights be quenched—all color fade and die, | 10 |
| And when they stand like spectres gaunt and still, | |
| With naked boughs against the far, cold sky, | |
| Lo! we shall hide the flying moon from sight, | |
| And lead the wind on many a roaring night. | | | | |
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