Welcome to you rich Autumn days,
    Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; 
When golden stocks are seen in fields,
    All standing arm-in-arm entwined; 
And gallons of sweet cider seen
On trees in apples red and green.

With mellow pears that cheat our teeth,
    Which melt that [tongues]1 may suck them in; 
With [blue-black damsons, yellow]2 plums,
    Now sweet and soft from stone to skin; 
And woodnuts rich, to make us go
Into the loneliest lanes we know.