An Autumn Song

The dim sun slips adown the sky That dies from gold to gray; The homing birds that Southward fly To my heart's hailing make reply, Piping "Good-bye, good-bye!"

Southward I turn my wistful eyes, Southward, where all my treasure lies, Whither the homing sparrow flies, Piping "Good-bye, good-bye!"

The chill blast sweeps the steely sky That glooms a sullen gray; Soft summer winds that Southward fly To my soul's sighing make reply Breathing "Good-bye, good-bye!"

Southward I turn my longing eyes, Southward my yearning spirit hies, Whither or bird or zephyr flies Sighing "Good-bye, good-bye!"