Autumn song
A. Beach
Happy days and summer roses
Vanish one by one;
Ev'ry rose her petals loses,
Ev'ry day its sun.
Now the goldenrod is swinging
Radiant in the air,
The wild grape still is clinging
High inpurple rare.
Ah!
Happy days and joyous roses,
Come again in Spring;
Winter then in sleep reposes
And to thee I'll sing,
To thee I'll sing!