“Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day,
“Come over the meadows with me, and play;
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold.”
Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs they knew.
“Cricket, good-bye, we’ve been friends so long;
Little brook, sing us your farewell song-
Say you’re sorry to see us go;
Ah! you are sorry, right well we know.”
“Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we’ve watched you in vale and glade;
Say, will you dream of our loving shade?”
Dancing and whirling the little leaves went;
Winter had called them and they were content-
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a soft mantle over their heads.
This month’s poem is “Come Little Leaves” which is actually a song written by by the American poet George Cooper (1838–1927). It is appropriate because this year the mild and gentle Autumn, at least here in the UK, means that even now we still have a wonderful multi-coloured display of leaves on the trees.
Mind you, that wind will come calling all too soon !