MERRY AUTUMN DAYS.
by CHARLES DICKENS
I HAIL the merry autumn days,
When leaves are turning red;
Because they're far more beautiful,
Than anyone has said;
We hail the merry harvest-time,
The gayest of the year;
The time of rich and bounteous crops,
Rejoicing and good cheer.
'Tis pleasant on a fine spring morn.
To see the buds expand,
'Tis pleasant in the summer-time.
To see the fruitful land;
'Tis pleasant on a winter's night.
To sit around the blaze; -
But what are joys like these, my boys,
To merry autumn days?
by CHARLES DICKENS
I HAIL the merry autumn days,
When leaves are turning red;
Because they're far more beautiful,
Than anyone has said;
We hail the merry harvest-time,
The gayest of the year;
The time of rich and bounteous crops,
Rejoicing and good cheer.
'Tis pleasant on a fine spring morn.
To see the buds expand,
'Tis pleasant in the summer-time.
To see the fruitful land;
'Tis pleasant on a winter's night.
To sit around the blaze; -
But what are joys like these, my boys,
To merry autumn days?
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