All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
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The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying;--
Old age, begin sighing!

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.

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young read more

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape;
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.

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.

Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
Sheltered in a golden coating;
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
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Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
Sheltered in a golden coating;
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
White and dainty cloudlets floating;
Winking at the blushing trees,
And the sombre, furrowed fallow;
Smiling at the airy ease,
Of the southward flying swallow
Sweet and smiling are thy ways,
Beauteous, golden Autumn days.

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When read more

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthened every shade.

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
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O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it read more

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it goes.
Once it rocked the summer rose.