Autumn

It was autumn, and he always liked autumn. Something about early autumn, when the leaves began to flee before a northern breeze and the days shortened, gave an extra edge to existence.

— Autumn

falling leavesso quietly

— Autumn

Earth's crammed with heaven,The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

— Autumn

What does winter or autumn or spring or summer know of memory. They know nothing of memory. They know that seasons pass and return. They know that they are seasons. That they are time. And they know how to affirm themselves. And they know how to impose themselves. And they know how to maintain themselves. What does autumn know of summer. What sorrows do seasons have. None hate. None love. They just pass.

— Autumn

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.

— Autumn

The mellow autumn came, and with it cameAnd ah, ye poachers!—'Tis no sport for peasants.

— Autumn

Autumn is a second Spring when every leaf is a flower.

— Autumn

October gave a party;Professor Wind the band.

— Autumn

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.

— Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,Comes jovial on.

— Autumn

To me it seems that youth is like spring, an overpraised season——delightful if it happen to be a favoured one, but in practice very rarely favoured and more remarkable, as a general rule, for biting east winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

— Autumn

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.

— Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stainedSing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

— Autumn

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

— Autumn

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.

— Autumn

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.

— Autumn

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

— Autumn

Yellow, mellow, ripened days,Beauteous, golden Autumn days.

— Autumn

A breath, whence no man knows,Once it rocked the summer rose.

— Autumn

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

— Autumn

The Autumn is old; Old age, begin sighing!

— Autumn

The year's in the wane; Cold winter gives warning!

— Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.

— Autumn

Third act of the eternal play! In yellow letters like Chinese.

— Autumn

It was Autumn, and incessant Burned among the withering leaves.

— Autumn

What visionary tints the year puts on,And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!

— Autumn

Every season hath its pleasures; Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.

— Autumn

Autumn As the equinoctials blow.

— Autumn

Sorrow and the scarlet leaf, Agree not well together!

— Autumn

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,Say, is not absence death to those who love?

— Autumn

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,And the low sun had lengthened every shade.

— Autumn

O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

— Autumn

This sunlight shames November where he grievesHigh salutation.

— Autumn

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

— Autumn

Cold autumn, wan with wrath of wind and rain,That death smote silent when he smote again.

— Autumn

Autumn has come;Willingly die there.

— Autumn

We lack but open eye and earYon maple wood the burning bush.

— Autumn