O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the read more

O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn read more

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim;
Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants!
And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.

Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

This sunlight shames November where he grieves
In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun
read more

This sunlight shames November where he grieves
In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun
The day, though bough with bough be overrun.
But with a blessing every glade receives
High salutation.

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown read more

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.

Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
read more

Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
Agree not well together!

The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And read more

The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning!

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
read more

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no read more

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;--
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.