Several nights have past away,
And, quoth the bridegroom,
"Come what may."
There stands the bride,
Tinted red and gold,
For in autumns tints,
This stories told.
Like the passing of time,
From summer to fall,
A romance has cooled,
Chilling all.
Next come bare trees,
Leaves on cold ground,
Reminding lovers,
Winter comes around.
Now heres our bride of red and gold,
And, with the passing of time,
Love dwindles, she's told.
So she, to bridegroom,
"What have you to say,"
And his reply is,
"Come what may."

