Fall Leaves

“Come little leaves,” said the wind one day,
“Come o’er the meadows with me and play,
Put on your dresses (colors) of red and gold,
For summer is gone and the days grow cold.”

Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering one and all,
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the sweet little songs they knew.

Dancing and whirling the little leaves went,
Winter had called them and they were content,
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlid o’er their heads.