The linden trees are bare,
The maples blackened so;
The winds are softly weeping,
And the rains fiercely grow.

Across the plains so bleak,
Veiled in a somber gray,  
The viburnum warmly glows,
Chasing the cold away.

The cabbage row glows bright
A joy amidst the frost
In autumn's bitter strands
All warmth and light are lost