Then came the Autumne, all in yellow clad,
As though he joyèd in his plenteous store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banished hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinchèd sore;
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore,
And in his hand a sickle he did holde,
To reape the ripened fruit the which the earth had yold.
_Faërie Queene, Bk. VII_. E. SPENSER.
And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odor.
_Richard III. (Altered), Act v. Sc. 3_. C. CIBBER.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreathed with nodding corn.
_Brigs of Ayr_. R. BURNS.
Yellow, mellow, ripened days.
Sheltered in a golden coating
O'er the dreamy, listless haze,
White and dainty cloudlets floating;
* * * * *
Sweet and smiling are thy ways,
Beauteous, golden Autumn days.
_Autumn Days_. W. CARLETON.
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on.
_The Seasons: Autumn_. J. THOMSON.
From gold to gray
Our mild sweet day
Of Indian summer fades too soon;
But tenderly
Above the sea
Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.
_The Eve of Election_. J.G. WHITTIER.
The brown leaves rustle down the forest glade,
Where naked branches make a fitful shade,
And the lost blooms of Autumn withered lie.
_October_. G. ARNOLD.
The dead leaves their rich mosaics
Of olive and gold and brown
Had laid on the rain-wet pavements,
Through all the embowered town.
_November_. S. LONGFELLOW.
When shrieked
The bleak November winds, and smote the woods,
And the brown fields were herbless, and the shades
That met above the merry rivulet
Were spoiled, I sought, I loved them still; they seemed
Like old companions in adversity.
_A Winter Piece_. W.C. BRYANT.
Dry leaves upon the wall,
Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape,
A single frosted cluster on the grape
Still hangs--and that is all.
_November_. S.C. WOOLSEY (_Susan Coolidge_).