Autumn

The warm sun is failing
The bleak wind is wailing
The bare boughs are sighing
The pale flowers are dying
Come months, come away
From November to May
In your saddest array
Follow the bier
Of the dead, cold year
The chill rain is falling
The night worm is crawling
The rivers are swelling
The thunder is knelling
The blithe swallows are flown
And the lizards each gone
And the earth’s a deathbed
In a shroud of leaves dead
Come months, come away
From November to May
In your saddest array
Follow the bier
Of the dead, cold year