My Dear, Dear, Sweet, October! Come to cleanse again!
No passion can compareth, to the day you doth begin.

Summers' last bloom faileth; embers fully spent.
Winters' preparation; Spring has long since went.

Your healing powers riding in, on tails of northern wind.
Long I have been hailing thee, my dear and sweetest friend.

Crisp and cool, your depths of air, they soothe me as I tarry,
In Nature's muse at dusktime, thy winds..my troubles carry.

My Dear, Dear, Sweet, October! Come to cleanse again!
No passion can compareth, to the day you doth begin.