“Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day,
” Come over the meadows with me and play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
For 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.
O’er the brown field then 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 on their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.