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As the Autumn leaves are falling
I hear the wind your name it’s calling.

As the dark nights draw in further
I hear the wind, it’s voice a murmur.

As the conkers fall off the trees
I hear it whistle, an Autumn breeze.

As the flying birds migrate
Quickly before it’s too late.


– Jane Tomlin



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Gold, brown, russet and green,
So many colors to be seen,
Numerous leaves scattered around,
Forming a carpet on the ground,
Down they come twirling and swirling,
Then lying still with edges curling
There they die, no more to grow,
Scattered wherever the wind will blow.


– Anne Williams


Autumn Dusk

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In the gathering dusk of Autumn
the mist of evening
rolls across the farms and hills of home
to greet the brisk chill in the air.
Grasses wet with dew
such a relief
from the long summer’s heat;
a gourmet feast for cattle
grazing lazily in the meadows.
The sounds of wood chopping,
smells of burning leaves and
mom’s pies baking in the oven,
all warm, cherished memories
of home in the fall;
exquisite jewels in a crown
I will wear in the long, cold,
less comforting days of winter.


– Carolyn Brunelle


Autumn Leaves

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I am an autumn leaf
Soaring through the air
I am free as a bird
Without a worry or a care

Then suddenly one day
Without a warning in sight
I am forced to the ground
Like lightning to a kite

Suddenly I’m broken
Lying in pieces on the ground
I’m ripped and torn to shreds
And there’s no one around

I lie there for hours
Hoping someone will appear
But when they do
They confirm my fear

Instead of picking me up,
And taking me somewhere sound
They kick me into the gutter
And leave me to rot on the ground

I am an autumn leaf
Left to rot and die
Forgotten by the world
As I wonder, why?


– Allyson Gordon


Autumn Romance

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Hand in hand they wandered
north-eastward across the vales
during the beautiful autumn time
in England’s Yorkshire Dales.

The sun shone over the valleys
nature was never so fair,
on the day he wooed the one he loved,
the girl with the flaxen hair.

The depth of his soul was captured
by a softness, pure as the snow.
His young life he would surrender
because he adored her so.

Voices echoed from a village church
and as he knelt before his love…
he could hear Mendelssohn’s melody:
‘O For the Wings of a Dove’.

Who else within the whole wide world
could feel such ecstasy rare?
At a time when fairy-tales came true,
they both vowed their lives to share.


– Joyce Hemsley



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The cold breeze through the window left ajar as I rest
Reminds me that summer is gone and autumn is stirring,
Bringing sadness as the lawn is mown for the last time
Sadness as summer shorts give way to warmer trousers.

I watch as the cycle begins again, that dreaded cyclical
Pattern we can’t get out of, daytime and night,
Seedtime and harvest, laughter and tears, life and death
Only death breaks the dreaded cycle, death the end of all.

Oh joyous death, the end of life, of change, of stress
Beginning of new dimensions, of new experiences,
Glimpsed by sages in Antiquity, by Greeks by Persians
By Chinese, by Jews, by too many not to want it.

Autumn, bring on autumn, bring on winter,
Bring on spring and the following summer
Until I’ve seen them all and sleep to wake no more,
Bring on the seasons, the cycle the change, until my end.


– James Hart


An Autumn Evening

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Dinner and day together go,
As round the table still we dwell,
Watching the sun descending slow,
Our faces shine with day’s farewell.

This is the moment of all time
When stillness reigneth over all:
When life calms down, the highest lime
Moves not, nor any leaf dares fall.

Shall we sit still in low-voiced talk
Anticipating lamp and book,
Or once more take a sauntering walk
Hill-ward to catch the sun’s last look?

The lambs and sheep have parted long,
No anxious bleat nor moor-hen’s call
Is heard, nor robin’s autumn song,
Absolute stillness reigns o’er all.

Over the orange-tinted brae,
Against that wondrous north-west sky,
Over the far sea golden-gray,
Where no horizon we descry.

A glorified world is there, behold,
Above that cloud-bank growing dim,
Where the great king hath laid his head,
Fragments of crimson still unfold:
Cherubim’s wings are ruby red,
So these may be the cherubim!

Now we return with noiseless tread,
These cottage doors are shut betimes,
Listen, this is old John Grimes’,
He reads before he goes to bed;

He reads a chapter of the Book
Of Books, to comfort his old wife,
Happily in this far Scotch nook,
Faith still trims the lamp of life.

But there our own high windows shine,
The evening fire is lit we see,
Wayfaring shoes let us resign,
And you will sing that hymn to me.


– William Bell Scott



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Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The Seasons change, and Nature’s face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.

‘Twas Spring, ’twas Summer, all was gay,
Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow;
The flowers of Spring are swept away,
And Summer fruits desert the bough.

The verdant leaves that play’d on high,
And wanton’d on the western breeze,
Now trod in dust neglected lie,
As Boreas strips the bending trees.

The fields that waved with golden grain,
As russet heaths are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench’d in rain,
Nor health nor pleasure wanders there.

No more, while through the midnight shade
Beneath the moon’s pale orb I stray,
Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay.

From this capricious clime she soars,
O! would some god but wings supply!
To where each morn the Spring restores,
Companion of her flight I’d try.

Vain wish! me fate compels to bear
The downward season’s iron reign,
Compels to breathe the polluted air,
And shiver on a blasted plain.

What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
If glooms, and showers,and storms prevail;
And Ceres flies the naked field,
And flowers and fruits, and Phoebus fail.

Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
To cheer me in the darkening hour!
The grape remains! the friend of wit,
In love, and mirth, of mighty power.

Haste – press the clusters, fill the bowl;
Apollo! shoot thy parting ray:
This gives the sunshine of the soul,
This god of health, and verse, and day.

Still – still the jocund train shall flow,
The pulse with vigorous rapture beat;
My Stella with new charms shall glow,
And every bliss in wine shall meet.


– Samuel Johnson

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Once Upon An Autumn Day

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Once Upon an autumn day,
Colorful leaves began to fade
In the midst of a chilly, frosty air
As multitude of trees grew steadily bare.

Once upon an autumn day,
The whispering breeze was here to stay
Moving aimlessly through the countless trees
Scattering leaves with the greatest of ease.

Once upon an autumn day,
The leaves whirled freely in every way,
Until at last they came to rest
Finding a haven in which to nest.

Once upon an autumn day,
The trees were dormant, and the leaves lay
Waiting for the winter snow to fall
To quickly obscure them one and all.


– Joseph T Renaldi

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A Day In Autumn

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It will not always be like this,
The air windless, a few last
Leaves adding their decoration
To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs
Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening

In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up
From the day’s chores, pause a minute,
Let the mind take its photograph
Of the bright scene, something to wear
Against the heart in the long cold.


– Ronald Stuart Thomas

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