PlPE, little minstrels of the waning year, 

In gentle concert pipe!

Pipe the warm noons; the mellow harvest near; 

The apples dropping ripe;

The tempered sunshine, and the softest shade;

The trill of lonely bird; 

The sad, sweet hush on Nature's gladness laid;

The sounds through silence heard! 

Pipe tenderly the passing of the year;

The summer's brief reprieve; 

The dry husk rustling round the yellow ear;

The chill of dawn and eve!

Pipe the untroubled trouble of the year;

Pipe low the painless pain; 

Pipe your unceasing melancholy cheer;

The year is in the wane!