by Oliver Jenkins.
MY love will come in autumn-time
When leaves go spinning to the ground
And wistful stars in heaven chime
With the leaves' sound.
Then, we shall walk through dusty lanes
And pause beneath low-hanging boughs,
And there, while soft-hued beauty reigns
We'll make our vows.
Let others seek in spring for sighs
When love flames forth from every seed;
But love that blooms when nature dies
Is love indeed!