Autumn Leaves

By John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosomfriend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatcheves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottagetrees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.

Autumn Song

By Sarojini Naidu

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,

The sunset hangs on a cloud;

A golden storm of glittering sheaves,

Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,

The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling

To my heart in the voice of the wind:

My heart is weary and sad and alone,

For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,

And why should I stay behind?

Autumn

By Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be oldfashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.