The beauties of Summer are passing away
And the flowers are losing their bloom,
And soon, hoary Winter so withered and grey
Will see them all laid in their tomb.

The forests so bright in their garments of gold
Will shortly be leafless and bare,
And the daughters of Flora will shrink from the cold
Until they give up in despair.

The dull leaden sky and the fierce howling blast,
And the withered leaves rustling along,
Assure us too plainly that summer is past-
The season of flowers and song.

And cold, cruel Winter will shortly appear-
Already he knocks at the door,
And his desolate reign will be lifeless and drear
And hard on the destitute poor.

But tho' for a time vegetation shall cease
We must not succumb to our woes,
But patiently wait for another release
From Winter's long lingering snows.