Autumn Within lyrics
 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
		
		It is autumn; not without,
          But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
          It is I that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air,
          Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
          Save within my lonely breast.
There is silence: the dead leaves
          Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
          Comes no murmur from the mill.