Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stooks are seen in fields, All standing arm-in-arm entwined; And gallons of sweet cider seen On trees in apples red and green. With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in; With cherries red, and blue-black plums, Now sweet and soft from stone to skin; And woodnuts rich, to make us go Into the loneliest lanes we know. |