No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young read more

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face;
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape;
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,
Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.
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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.

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes read more

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Every season hath its pleasure;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
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Every season hath its pleasure;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.

Autumn
Into earth's lap does throw
Brown apples gay in a game of play,
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Autumn
Into earth's lap does throw
Brown apples gay in a game of play,
As the equinoctials blow.

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.

The mellow autumn came, and with it came
The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
The corn read more

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.

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!

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.