A maiden born when Autumn leaves
Are rustling in September's breeze,
A Sapphire on her brow should read more

A maiden born when Autumn leaves
Are rustling in September's breeze,
A Sapphire on her brow should bind,
'Twill cure diseases of the mind.

A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; read more

A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; her voice is sweet music, her smiles his brightest day, her kiss the guardian of his innocence, her arms the pale of his safety...

No clouds are in the morning sky,
The vapors hug the stream,
Who says that life and read more

No clouds are in the morning sky,
The vapors hug the stream,
Who says that life and love can die
In all this northern gleam?
At every turn the maples burn,
The quail is whistling free,
The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs
Are dropping for you and me.
Ho! hillyho! heigh O!
Hillyho!
In the clear October morning.

The Lord says, "As surely as I live, your children will be like jewels. You will be as proud of read more

The Lord says, "As surely as I live, your children will be like jewels. You will be as proud of them as a bride is of her jewels."

If cold December gave you birth,
The month of snow and ice and mirth,
Place on you read more

If cold December gave you birth,
The month of snow and ice and mirth,
Place on you hand a Turquoise blue,
Success will bless whate'er you do.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak,
Say what words fail of.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak,
Say what words fail of.

Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.

Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.

October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
read more

October turned by maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
Soon these will slip from the twig's weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.

It strikes! one, two,
Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch,
Thy pulse hath beat enough. read more

It strikes! one, two,
Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch,
Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest;
Would thou could'st make the time to do so too;
I'll wind thee up no more.