autumn quotes
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of withered leaves, and the elms, Fade into dimness apace, Silent;hardlya shout From a few boys late at their play!
OAutumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe, And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
Clear Cymric voices carry well this Autumn night, Aneurin and Taliesin, cruel owls for whom it is never altogether dark before the rules made poetry a pedant's game.
Now westlin winds, and slaught'rin guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather.
While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light; While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes.
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence.
I want to go south, where there is no autumn, where the cold doesn't crouch over one like a snow-leopard waiting to pounce. The heart of the North is dead, and the fingers of cold are corpse fingers.
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit And the long journey towards oblivion Have you built your ship of death,O have you?
Uneasily the leaves fall at this season, forgetting what to do or where to go; the red amnesiacs of autumn drifting thru the graveyard forest. What they have forgotten they have forgotten: what they meant to do instead of fall is not in earth or time recoverable the fossils of intention, the shapes of rot.
The day becomes more solemn and serene When noon is pastthere is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, Which through the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been!
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
Autumn is desolation in the plot Of a thousand acres, where these memories grow From the inexhaustible bodies that are not Dead, but feed the grass, row after rich row.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happyautumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in the shower of all my days.
Me morire en Par|s con aguacero, un d|a del cual tengo ya el recuerdo. Me morire en Par|sy no me corro tal vez un jueves, como es hoy, de oton o. I will die in Paris with a sudden shower, a day I can already remember. I will die in Parisand I don't budge maybe aThursday, like today is, in autumn.
Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon c½ur D'une langueur Monotone. Slow sobs Of the violins Of autumn Wound my heart With a monotonous languor.
Autumn wind rises; white clouds fly. Grass and trees wither; geese go south.
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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