The leaves are falling, falling,
The yellow treetops wave,
Ah, all delight and beauty
Is drawing to the grave.
About the wood's crest flicker
The wan sun's laggard rays,
They are the parting kisses
Of fleeting summer days.
Meseems I should be shedding
The heart's-tears from my eyes,
The day will keep recalling
The time of our good-byes:
I knew that you were dying
And I must pass away,
Oh I was the waning summer,
And you were the wood's decay.