Autumn - Caprice

The warm sun is failing

The bleak wind is wailing

The bare boughs are sighing

The pale flowers are dying

Come months, come away

From November to May

In your saddest array

Follow the bier

Of the dead, cold year

The chill rain is falling

The night worm is crawling

The rivers are swelling

The thunder is knelling

The blithe swallows are flown

And the lizards each gone

And the earth’s a deathbed

In a shroud of leaves dead

Come months, come away

From November to May

In your saddest array

Follow the bier

Of the dead, cold year