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Autumn.
(Allegro è spiritoso.)
Come, greet merry Autumn, she's heiress of Spring,
Who left her a fortune of Flowers;
Come, welcome her in, let the Heather-bells ring,
And the Harebell's soft music be ours.
Sing, hey for bright Autumn! her triumphs we'll speak,
And love her rich gifts and her bonny brown cheek.
She has wealth all uncounted; the blossoms of Spring
Fell fluttering down from the spray,
But they left in their place each a germ that should bring
A rich treasure for Autumn to-day.
Then, hey for the heiress! her treasures we'll seek,
And love the deep tinge of her bonny brown cheek.
She hath swelling hills girdled with broad belts of gold,
All waving so bright i' the sun;
She hath fruits fair as jewels, that cannot be told;
And all this vast wealth may be won!
Then, hey for rich Autumn! and, ere the trees break,
Go gather the fruit with the bloom on its cheek!
