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 Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
 Sheltered in a golden coating;
  O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
   read more 
 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. 
 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 Autumn is old;
 The sere leaves are flying;
  He hath gather'd up gold,
   read more 
 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 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. 
 It was Autumn, and incessant
 Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
  And, like living coals, the read more 
 It was Autumn, and incessant
 Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
  And, like living coals, the apples
   Burned among the withering leaves. 
 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! 
 O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
 With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
  read more 
 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. 
 Every season hath its pleasure;
 Spring may boast her flowery prime,
  Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
 read more 
 Every season hath its pleasure;
 Spring may boast her flowery prime,
  Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
   Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time. 
 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.