The autumn winds are sighing,
They're sighing in the trees,
The Autumn leaves are falling,
And scattering in the breeze;
The Summer days are over,
And wilted are the flowers;
The frost lies on the pumpkin
In the early morning hours.
The Autumn days are waning
With songbirds flying high,
Out o'er the blue horizon,
Towards the southern sky;
The oak trees and the maple
Are dressed in tints of gold;
No more is heard the splash and shout
Down by the swimmin' hole.
Thanksgiving comes with Autumn
When crops are garnered in,
From farmlands and the prairies
Ere Winter storms begin;
The seasons in their order
Bring blessings manifold;
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter
Each has a leading role.
Autumn, 1948
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