Welcome to you rich Autumn days,
  Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind;
When golden stooks are seen in 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.