When the leaves are red, and the leaves are brown,
Under a limpid sky!
Oh! it's good to be young to-day,
Strong, and young, on this lonely way,
Happy my thoughts and I!
Far below where the mists are blue
Runs the river, and damp with dew
Glimmers the golden corn,
Crickets sing in the wayside grass,
Beetles drone, as I pause and pass