The leaves are falling all around —
Reluctant, waveringly they fall;
The river has a moaning sound,
The redbreast's notes are low and small.
With boding croak and flagging wing,
The rook sails slowly o'er the lea;
Time's annual shades are gathering,
And winter's coming step I see.
Each falling leaf's a moral page;
Time's myriads thus are trodden low;
Each season of our pilgrimage
Has voices warning as we go.
We hear, but heed not, nature's knell;
We see, but mark not, time's decay;
We cling to pleasure's flowery spell,
Till every leaf has dropped away.
