I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;--
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
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The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown read more
The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
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.
Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
read more
Sorrow and the scarlet leaf,
Sad thoughts and sunny weather;
Ah me! this glory and this grief
Agree not well together!
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.
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.
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,
Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.
read more
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.
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.
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?
A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it read more
A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it goes.
Once it rocked the summer rose.
