The woods, no longer vocal,
A silent gloom invest,
And in their robes of beauty,
Are now no longer dressed.
The year’s fair prime is ended,
Its pulse beats low and cold;
Its charms, so lately splendid,
Are withered, changed and old!
Farewell then, lovely Autumn!
We may not meet again!
For winter must rule o’er us,
And spring and summer reign.
The snows of time are on me,
Their silent footfalls tell
My soul to look beyond me
Where there is no farewell!