A trusting little leaf of green, 
 A bold audacious frost; 
A rendezvous, a kiss or two, 
 And youth for ever lost.
 Ah, me! 
 The bitter, bitter cost.

A flaunting patch of vivid red, 
 That quivers in the sun; 
A windy gust, a grave of dust, 
 The little race is run.
 Ah, me! 
 Were that the only one.