There is no dread of Winter's quiet sleep
As crisp October lifts the spirit high,
With just a touch of sadness now to know
That Springtime's flowers must die,
That Springtime's flowers must die.

For those who've reached October's time of life,
'Tis much the same -- life takes a brighter hue;
The turbulence of Summer's storms now past,
The skies are clear and blue,
The skies are clear and blue.

October knows that Spring will come again,
And flowers -- faded by November's blast --
Will bloom again for all Eternity
When Winter's sleep is past,
When Winter's sleep is past.

© 1969