Читать книгу The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5 - Various - Страница 3

Summer's over, summer's over!

See, the leaves are falling fast;

Flowers are dying, flowers are dying,

All their beauty's gone at last.

Now the thrush no longer cheers us;

Warbling birds forget to sing;

And the bees have ceased to wander,

Sipping sweets on airy wing.

Winter's coming, winter's coming!

Now his hoary head draws near;

Winds are blowing, winds are blowing;

All around looks cold and drear.

Hope of spring must now support us;

Winter's reign will pass away;

Flowers will bloom, and birds will warble,

Making glad the livelong day.