Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet (May 12, 1842 - August 13, 1912) was a French composer and professor, who started piano lessons with his mother, and began studies at the Paris Conservatory when he was around 10 years old. 

Massenet's studies at the Conservatory were interrupted due to some family issues, and during his time away from school, he taught piano lessons and played in percussion in orchestra pits, which introduced him to many operas. He eventually returned to school, and went on to win the Prix de Rome. He made a living later on publishing his music, and playing piano, and in 1876 became a professor of composition at the Conservatory. 

Massenet is most often known for his operas, but he also wrote ballets, oratorios, orchestral pieces, works for piano, and many songs, including Pensée d'automne. The words to this wonderful piece for voice and piano are translated as such:

"The year slips away like a flowing stream,
Taking away the fleeing lights of the West
And like that of grieving birds,
The flight of memories languishes in the air.

The year slips away like a flowing stream.
A touch of soul still wanders in the withered flower cups
Of the convolvulus (bearbine) and the hollyhocks,
And up toward the distant lights in the sky,
A dream still rises on the wing of fragrances.
A touch of soul still wanders in the withered flower cups.

A farewell song comes out of the troubled springs;
If you wish, my love, let us go back on that pathway
Where you and I, last spring, your hand in mine,
Followed the fragrant fancy of the alleys;
A farewell song comes out of the troubled springs!

A song of love emerges from my devoted heart
Which an unending April has flowered with youth.
Let the beautiful days die! Let the harsh winter be born again!
Like a joyful hymn in the moaning wind,
A song of love emerges from my devoted heart!

A song of love to your sacred beauty,
Woman, immortal summer! Woman, immortal spring!
Sister of the burning star which, in the floating skies,
Pours, on all season, its golden light,
A song of love to your sacred beauty.

Woman, immortal summer! Woman, immortal spring!"

Many of the lines start with a rolled chord on the piano, particularly in the first stanza, and the tempo and mood is hesitant, but moves along in the following stanzas. When things pick up, so does the mood, and it goes from thoughtful to exultant, as the vocalist sings of love emerging from their heart.

Here's a wonderful recording of this piece for you to enjoy!

Joan Sutherland