When the Autumn tiptoes softly and the summer days are told, And the air grows crisp and crinkles all the leaves to red and gold; When soft colors tint the distance ere the evening glow is on, And the woodbine blushes crimson to the wooing of the sun:
Come ye back to old Grinnell, to the College loved so well, Can't you feel your pulses throbbing when you come to old Grinnell? Oh, 'tis back to old Grinnell, where rings out the classic bell, Come ye back, ye students loyal, come ye back to old Grinnell!
When a wintry gray comes booming down the north wind, and the snow Whisks and piles in mounds of whiteness as the eddies come and go; When the frosty vines hang drooping with a mass of fairy hair, And the jingle of the sleigh bells shakes out laughter on the air:
When soft whisperings from the southland coax the trees to take their green, And the leaves cast phantom shadows where the moonlight sifts between; When with raptured heart go strolling manly youth and pretty maid, And afar is heard the music of an evening serenade: