Moan, O ye Autumn Winds!
Summer has fled,
The flowers have closed their tender leaves and died;
The lily's gracious head
All low must lie,
Because the gentle Summer now is dead.

Grieve, O ye Autumn Winds!
Summer lies low;
The rose's trembling leaves will soon be shed,
For she that loved her so,
Alas! is dead,
And one by one her loving children go.

Wail, O ye Autumn Winds!
She lives no more,
The gentle summer, with her balmy breath
Still sweeter than before
When nearer death,
And brighter every day the smile she wore!

Mourn, mourn, O Autumn Winds!
Lament and mourn;
How many half-blown buds must close and die,
Hopes with the summer born
All faded lie,
And leave us desolate and Earth forlorn!