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When Gentians roll their fringes tight
 To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
 Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie
 In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
 Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things
 Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
 Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,
 In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
 Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
 By twos and twos together,
And count like misers hour by hour,
 October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,
 Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
 October's bright blue weather.