"At the fall of the year, when fair autumn is here 



And the glories of summer are fled, 

 When the evenings are long and the breezes are strong, 



And the leaves in the covert lie dead 

 Then, then is it time to our saddles to climb, 



And in scarlet ourselves to adorn, 

 To welcome our sport of the old-fashioned sort 



To follow the hounds and the horn." 



AT THE FALL OF THE YEAR 



