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of Day - 2012 Quotes
|Topic: Autumn Quotes - Famous Autumn
Quotes, Poems, Sayings about Fall
|Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the
Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's
peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The
winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms
their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
Elegy IX--The Autumnal.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close
of a winter day.
Every season hath its pleasures;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
Spring and Autumn.
In the garden, Autumn is, indeed the crowning glory of the
year, bringing us the fruition of months of thought and care
and toil. And at no season, safe perhaps in Daffodil time,
do we get such superb colour effects as from August to November.
Rose G. Kingsley
The Autumn Garden.
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant
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.
Ode to Autumn.
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil
painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
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.
My November Guest.
I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine
by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight
hours in the open air.
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. Cummins
Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains,
a torch flung to the trees.
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.
Nature XXVII, Autumn.
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
Summer makes me drowsy.
Autumn makes me sing.
Winter's pretty lousy,
But I hate Spring.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes
and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one
remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers
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
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Nothing Gold Can Stay.
O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill;
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Autumn's the mellow time.
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
Robert Louis Stevenson
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together.
For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
Edwin Way Teale
Autumn Across America.
Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds
change color and fall from the trees.
If winter is slumber and spring is birth, and summer is life,
then autumn rounds out to be reflection. It's a time of year
when the leaves are down and the harvest is in and the perennials
are gone. Mother Earth just closed up the drapes on another
year and it's time to reflect on what's come before.
From TV series Northern Exposure, Thanksgiving,
It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur
more frequently in memory than in life.
P. D. James
Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect
pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.
Carol Bishop Hipps
Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.
hide the path
Autumn, A Haiku Year.
October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.
Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable
for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower
season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
The Way of All Flesh.
Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.
October is a symphony of permanence and change.
Bonaro W. Overstreet
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,
Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.
Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing
With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
William Cullen Bryant
The Third of November.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
Brigs of Ayr.
The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim;
Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants!
And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
Yellow, mellow, ripened days,
Sheltered in a golden coating;
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
White and dainty cloudlets floating;
Winking at the blushing trees,
And the sombre, furrowed fallow;
Smiling at the airy ease,
Of the southward flying swallow
Sweet and smiling are thy ways,
Beauteous, golden Autumn days.
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;--
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Ode - Autumn.
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.
Much-recorded song Autumn Leaves. Originally
a French song Les Feuilles Mortes with lyrics by poet Jacques
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