IM HERBST.

O AUTUMN days, your lives are brief,

With dying sunlight crown'd,

When pale November's wither'd leaf

Whirls to the frosty ground;

When bleak o'er all the barren plains

The boisterous winds are blown,

And thro' the dreary-dripping rains

The lonely forests moan.

O autumn days, your lives are brief,

With dying sunlight crown'd,

And darkness, when love's faded leaf

Whirls to the frosty ground!