Autumn scoffs, but she is in dismay.
She has certainly been betrayed.
Spring brings life, Summer brings warmth, and Winter the biting cold.
They say autumn has nothing but lo and behold.
Tis it not she who brings the harvest?
She who ripens the season’s grain?
She who stands before the icy winter queen?
Then why is spring the life bringer?
Twas this not misnamed?
How ungrateful these people, who name her a second bane.
Autumn cries, “They have been misled”
“I am not winter, I have left none dead”
Still the world looks on with dread, only seeing that she leads to the end.
The end of summer, and the sun’s warm rays, the start of Winter of its icy haze.
But she is not winter, why do they treat her so?
Because she is not Spring who’s life glows.
Autumn has nothing to call her own,
No warmth, no life, not even cold death throes.
Among the seasons she stands alone,
the auburn leaves compose her throne.
The four seasons each unique,
even autumn isn’t so bleak.
She has certainly been betrayed.
Spring brings life, Summer brings warmth, and Winter the biting cold.
They say autumn has nothing but lo and behold.
Tis it not she who brings the harvest?
She who ripens the season’s grain?
She who stands before the icy winter queen?
Then why is spring the life bringer?
Twas this not misnamed?
How ungrateful these people, who name her a second bane.
Autumn cries, “They have been misled”
“I am not winter, I have left none dead”
Still the world looks on with dread, only seeing that she leads to the end.
The end of summer, and the sun’s warm rays, the start of Winter of its icy haze.
But she is not winter, why do they treat her so?
Because she is not Spring who’s life glows.
Autumn has nothing to call her own,
No warmth, no life, not even cold death throes.
Among the seasons she stands alone,
the auburn leaves compose her throne.
The four seasons each unique,
even autumn isn’t so bleak.