“Come, little leaves,”
Said the wind one day,
“Come over 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 meadows
They danced and flew,
Singing the soft
Little songs they knew.
“Come Little Leaves” was written by the American poet George Cooper
FOUR CEDARS 