Autumn is deserving of Poetry and Prose...
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
~ Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
And yellow is the woodland bough; And every leaf of bush and weed Is tipt with autumn’s pencil now.
And I do love the varied hue,~ John Clare, Autumn
And I do love the browning plain;
And I do love each scene to view,
That’s mark’d with beauties of her reign.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold — Come change — and human fate! Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound, Can ne’er be desolate.
- The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browing
O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow!
- Robert Frost, October