“Come, little Leaves,” said the Wind one day,
Come o’er 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 fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs they knew.
Dancing and whirling the little leaves went;
Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon, fast asleep in their earthly beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.