But I do feel a little teeny right now that I'm just about ready to start, and winter is entering. Half past autumn has arrived.
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
The spirits of the air live on the smells Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.
You ought to know that October is the first Spring month.
There is so much beauty in autumn and so much wisdom; so much separation and so much sorrow!
Sadly, I part from you; Like a clam torn from its shell, I go, and autumn too.
It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tendered kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.
Through the dripping weeks that follow One another slow, and soak Summer's extinguished fire and autumn's drifting smoke.
This was one of those perfect New England days in late summer where the spirit of autumn takes a first stealing flight, like a spy, through the ripening country-side, and, with feigned sympathy for those who droop with August heat, puts her cool cloak of bracing air about leaf and flower and human shoulders.
I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.
0 summer friendship, whose flat-tering leaves shadowed us in our prosperity, With the least gust, drop off in the autumn of adversity.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
In the autumn of 1929 the mightiest of Americans were, for a brief time, revealed as human beings.
It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.
It was one of those sumptuous days when the world is full of autumn muskiness and tangy, crisp perfection: vivid blue sky, deep green fields, leaves in a thousand luminous hues. It is a truly astounding sight when every tree in a landscape becomes individual, when each winding back highway and plump hillside is suddenly and infinitely splashed with every sharp shade that nature can bestow - flaming scarlet, lustrous gold, throbbing vermilion, fiery orange.
Uneasily the leaves fall at this season, forgetting what to do or where to go; the red amnesiacs of autumn drifting thru the graveyard forest. What they have forgotten they have forgotten: what they meant to do instead of fall is not in earth or time recoverable the fossils of intention, the shapes of rot.
Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place, and I can picture it after all these days.
Sad; so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late Autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart.
Gardeners celebrate the influence of time. If we have had a late cold spring followed by a desiccating drought, autumn may be the most soft and golden for years; one poor season will sooner or later be compensated for by another.