That spring is gone and autumn’s here;
The rills have ceased their glad career,
The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,
The partridges no more we hear;
So I shall weep in my despair,
And from my eyes shed many a tear:—
How shall I find my babies’ fare?”
He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,
For spring will come another year,
And sunshine bring the world its cheer,