The warm sun is failing The bleak wind is wailing The bare boughs are sighing The pale flowers are dying Come months, come away From November to May In your saddest array Follow the bier Of the dead, cold year The chill rain is falling The night worm is crawling The rivers are swelling The thunder is knelling The blithe swallows are flown And the lizards each gone And the earth's a d**hbed In a shroud of leaves dead Come months, come away From November to May In your saddest array Follow the bier Of the dead, cold year