Here on my rock, my good gray rock,
I sit and look about.
A first leaf falls from off its perch
And there is not a doubt
That leaves will all be soon to leave,
The grass cease grow so fast,
And Lee will laugh aloud to see
The snowflakes as they blow!
And so I sit my good gray rock,
I sit and look around.
I hear no bird sing forth in cheer,
But see, imagine Lee,
When she’ll be whirling round again,
Unbound with bubbly sound!
