'O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall! ......'
Come little leaves, said the wind one day,
come o'er the meadows with me and play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold,
for summer is gone, and the days
Leaves in the Autumn come tumbling down,
scarlet and yellow, russet and brown.
Leaves in the garden were swept
in a heap, trees were undressing,
ready for sleep.
"When the trees their summer splendor
Change to raiment red and gold,
When the summer moon turns mellow,
And the nights are getting cold;
When the squirrels hide their acorns,
And the woodchucks disappear;
Then we know that it is autumn,
Loveliest season of the year."
Leaves in the Fall come tumbling down,
Scarlet and yellow, russet and brown,
Leaves in the garden are swept in a heap,
The trees are ready for sleep.
In autumn when the trees are brown
The little leaves come tumbling down
They do not make the slightest sound
But lie so quietly on the ground
Until the wind comes puffing by
And blows them off towards the sky
Pumpkins in the cornfields
Gold among the brown
Leaves of rust and scarlet
Trembling slowly down
Birds that travel southward
Lovely time to play
Nothing is as pleasant
As an autumn day!
Pretty leaves are falling down,
Green, orange, yellow and brown.
Here comes one colored red,
It landed on my head.
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 old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
~ Emily Dickinson
"Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,
Ripening fields lush- bright with promise;
Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing
Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn."
Michelle L. Thieme
Christmas. I miss the fragrances of Fall…cider,
donuts, caramel apples, burning leaves,
pumpkins…Fall is my favorite time of year.
The maple is a dainty maid,
The pet of all the wood,
Who lights the dusky forest glade,
With scarlet cloak and hood.
The elm a lovely lady is,
In shimmering robes of gold,
That catch the sunlight when she moves,
And glisten, fold on fold.
The sumac is a gypsy queen,
Who flaunts in crimson dressed,
And wild along the roadside runs,
Red blossoms in her breast.
And towering high above the wood,
All in his purple cloak,
A monarch in his splendor is
The proud and princely oak.
COME LITTLE LEAVES
by George Cooper
"Come, little leaves" said the wind one day,
"Come over the meadows with me, and play;
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."
Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs they knew.
Dancing and whirling the little leaves went;
Winter had called them and they were content-
Soon fast asleep in their earthly beds,
The snow laid a soft mantle over their heads.
"Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree."