With the gorgeous tints of the sunset sky!
I welcome your coming, with pleasure untold;
O, beautiful treasures of crimson and gold!
There’s a sadness steals over my spirit ’tis true,
At the thought that to summer I’ve bidden adieu;
But the autumn hath glories, which well may compare
With the beauties of spring—or the soft summer air.
O! beautiful leaves, I’ll not leave you to perish
Alone in the forest—with no one to cherish;
Where the cold winds of winter shall chill and decay