1 Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has autumn poured
from out the lavish horn!

2 Through vales of grass and meads of flowers our plows their furrows made,
while on the hills the sun and showers
of changeful April played.

3 We dropped the long, bright days of June beneath the sun of May,
and frightened from our sprouting grain
the robber crows away.

4 All through the long, bright days of June its leaves grew green and fair,
and waved in hot mid-summer’s noon
its soft and yellow hair.

5 And now, with autumn’s moonlit eyes, its harvest time has come,
we pluck away the frosted leaves
and bear the treasure home.