Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings as now in October.
Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air.
Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?
Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.
The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold.... I see your lips, the summer kisses The sunburned hands, I used to hold Since you went away, the days grow long And soon I'll hear ol' winter's song. But I miss you most of all my darling, When autumn leaves start to fall.
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