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.
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Third act of the eternal play!
In poster-like emblazonries
"Autumn once more begins today"--
read more
Third act of the eternal play!
In poster-like emblazonries
"Autumn once more begins today"--
'Tis written all across the trees
In yellow like Chinese.
The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And read more
The year's in wane;
There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,
And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning!
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When read more
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthened every shade.
Every season hath its pleasure;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
read more
Every season hath its pleasure;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
read more
Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?
O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the read more
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.
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
read more
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.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to read more
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-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.
