Across the green.

When all the chimneys rise with smoke, and frost lay arms across the green

You'll come to know of winter mist, a soft grey cloud between

Autumn shall be gone and lost, besides those moments keep in mind

And winter snow may come and go, though cold you'll often find,

That season of an unlikely source, embraced by fires warming hold

But Autumn fades away within, that land of auburn gold.