If robins cease to sing their evening song,

And spots appear upon the starling’s wing'

And wrens grow shy,

And mallards fly,

The time is far past spring.

When summer's green has turned to brown,

And chipmunks burrow underground,

And bucks grow bold,

And nights are cold,

Then summertime is gone.

It's then I take me out once more

To stroll about the wooded floor

Ere northern wind begin to blow

And shroud the wood in frozen snow.