Seldom since the morning glory
Glistened in the sunny glow
When dew has largely turned
To frost the first we such know

The season come the season go
There’s little time left this year
Days grow short nights grow long
Once thing stands up so clear

Snow flurries fall on days so grey
Which covers evenly on the ground
Leaves have fallen and limbs left bare
Only the wind makes some sound

Here we’ve arrived and here we go
The end of autumn and start of winter
The stacks of wood piled so neatly
The kindling all chopped to splinter