Come, Little Leaves 
"Come, little
leaves," said the wind one day,
"Come o'er the
meadows with me and play;
Put on your
dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone
and the days grow cold."
Soon as the
leaves heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came
fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown
fields they danced and flew,
Singing the
glad little songs they knew.
Dancing and
whirling, the little leaves went;
Winter had called
them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep
in their earthly beds
The snow laid
a coverlid over their heads.
