"Listen! The wind is rising,
and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings,
now for October eves!"
"O autumn, laden with fruit,
and stained with the blood of the grape,
pass not, but sit beneath my shady roof;
there thou may'st rest,
And tune they jolly voice to my fresh pipe;
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers."
To Autumn 1783