Show AUTU AUTUMN IX I I The Autumn is old The fhe sere sore leaves are aro flying He lie hath bath gathered up gold And now he ho Is dying Old age ago begin sighing The vintage is ripe The harvest Is heaping But nut some that lint have sowed Have no riches for or reaping reaping- Poor wretch fall a The years year's in the wane There re Is nothing adorning ah nl Isa no t tc morn I ng S r gives gives- The rivers run chill The red rell sun SUII Is sinking And I am grown n old And n II life Cc Is 11 fast shrinking Heres Here's snow for sad pad thinking Thomas Hood |