Merry Autumn Days

 Merry Autumn Days

By Charles Dickens

‘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!

We 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.