A golden leaf falls to the ground, As she, the tree, now sheds a tear; It tumbles down with ne'er a sound. A lifeless frond, now crisp and browned, No longer green this time of year; A golden leaf falls to the ground. With tumult blowing all around The leafy laden atmosphere, It tumbles down with ne'er a sound. Then gently floating downward bound Rustic, wrinkled, dishevelled, sere; A golden leaf falls to the ground. Soon to rest, whereupon is drowned, In a pool of foliage, near; It tumbles down with ne'er a sound. So, Autumn chills will sweep profound And frantic winds at last appear; A golden leaf falls to the ground It tumbles down with ne'er a sound.