|LK044-01||tenor and piano||$4.00|
If this be October 'tis the maid I've sought so long!
I have traced her through the dying
Summer with a song;
I have seen her garments flying
Nights in June
Down the crimson West beneath the moon!
If this be October, then, this dark-eyed, ruddy maid,
With the amber in her tresses,
All in gold arrayed,
Let me sing yet while she dresses
The still woods
And the scarlet sumach solitudes!
Let me sing, nor think of gloom, the while she
crowns her brow
With the woodbine reddening
Round the yellow bough!
Nothing sorrowful or saddening
Brings she here,
Only ripe fulfilments of the year!