Dark comes early now; leaves are drifting down in a steady shower, and the birds are leaving in hurried flight. The sun is losing her warmth, but windows glow with lamplight in the gloaming. It's a time of year that has inspired poets for centuries. Here are a few of my favorites that seem to touchthe autumn at its very core.
In slack wind of November
The fog forms and shifts;
All the world comes out again
When the fog lifts.
Loosened from their sapless twigs
Leaves drop with every gust;
Drifting, rustling, out of sight
In the damp or dust.
--from A Year's Windfalls by Christina Rosetti
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;Lengthen night and shorten day;Every leaf speaks bliss to meFluttering from the autumn tree.I shall smile when wreaths of snowBlossom where the rose should grow;I shall sing when night’s decayUshers in a drearier day.--Fall, Leaves Fall by Emily Bronte
It is a storm-strid night, winds footing swift
Through the blind profound;
I know the happenings from their sound;
Leaves totter down still green, and spin and drift;
The tree-trunks rock to their roots, which wrench and lift
The loam where they run onward underground.
The streams are muddy and swollen; eels migrate
To a new abode;
Even cross, ‘tis said, the turnpike-road;
[Men’s feet have felt their crawl, home-coming late]:
The westward fronts of towers are saturate,
Church-timbers crack, and witches ride abroad.
--Night-Time in Mid-Fall by Thomas Hardy
Stay warm, all.