Autumn

The leaves are falling one by one, The Summer days are past and gone, The nights are cool and damp; The little children think it strange At tea-time, for they note the change, We have to light the lamp; To roost the chickens earlier go, And everything has ceased to grow. The pumpkins now are big and round, And turning yellow on the ground, The leaves are drifting down; The farm seems bigger than before, 'T is stripped of all its wondrous store; Only the russets brown Still linger on the trees, and they Will soon be picked and packed away. The cellar's stored with rare delights To while away the winter nights; The squeaking cider mill Is gushing forth its nectar rare, A drink that all the gods call fair; And O, the world is still; A hush has settled over all, The Summer's gone and it is Fall.