What visionary tints the year puts on,
When falling leaves falter through motionless air
Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone!
How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare,
As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills
The bowl between me and those distant hills,
And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!
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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.
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.
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!
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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.
Autumn
Into earth's lap does throw
Brown apples gay in a game of play,
read more
Autumn
Into earth's lap does throw
Brown apples gay in a game of play,
As the equinoctials blow.
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.
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.
It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the read more
It was Autumn, and incessant
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.
