Welcome to you, rich Autumn days,
Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind;
When golden stooks are seen in the fields,
All standing arm-in-arm entwined;
And gallons of sweet cider seen
On trees in apples red and green.
With mellow pears that cheat our teeth,
Which melt that tongues may suck them in,
With cherries red, and blue-black plums,
Now sweet and soft from stone to skin;
And woodnuts rich, to make us go
Into the loneliest lanes we know.
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