Autumn celebrated in verse and prose

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

John Keats - Ode to Autumn.

My sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Robert Frost - My November Guest.

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves
away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.

E. E. Cummings

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

Emily Dickinson - Nature XXVII, Autumn.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn
tree.

Emily Bronte

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer
is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Autumn wins you best by this, its muteAppeal to sympathy for its
decay.

Robert Browning