William James Jones Poems

The autumn winds are moaning round
And through the branches sighing,
And autumn leaves upon the ground
All seared and dead are lying.
...

Bring flowers for the youthful throng,
Of variegated glow,
And twine of them a gaudy wreath
Around each childish brow.
...

Life at best is but a dream,
We're launched upon a rapid stream,
Gushing from some unknown source,
Rushing swiftly on its course,
...

In a quiet country churchyard
From the city far away,
Where no marble stands in mockery
Above the mould'ring clay;
...

Death, death, amidst the beautiful, the gentle, and the meek,
Oh, Mother hush thine agony above that infant's sleep,
...

I know thee not, and yet I fain
Would call thee brother, friend;
I know that friendship, virtue, truth,
All in thy nature blend.
...