The leaves do not mind at all
That they must fall.
When summertime has gone,
It is pleasant to put on
A traveling coat of brown and gray
And fly away,
Past the barn and past the school,
Past the noisy little pool,
It used to hear but could not see.
O, it is joy to be
A leaf—and free!
To be swiftly on the wing
Like a bird adventuring.
And then, tired out, to creep
Under some friendly rail and go to sleep;
The leaves do not mind at all
That they must fall.
