John Greenleaf Whittier Quotes

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

I love feeling the crispness of fall and the sensuality of spring.

Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees.

Besides the Autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days, A little this side of the snow, And that side of the Haze..., Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind- Thy windy will to bear!

Autumn that year painted the countryside in vivid shades of scarlet, saffron and russet, and the days were clear and crisp under harvest skies.

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

The grim frost is at hand, when apples will fall thick, almost thunderous, on the hardened earth.

When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.

Autumn is the harvest of greedy death.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood.

What if the leaves were to fall a-weeping, and say, "It will be so painful for us to be pulled from our stalks, when autumn comes?" Foolish fear! Summer goes, and autumn succeeds. The glory of death is upon the leaves; and the gentlest breeze that blows takes them softly and silently from the bough, and they float slowly down, like fiery sparks, upon the moss.

Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

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.

All the trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.

I seek truth and beauty in the transparency of an autumn leaf, in the perfect form of a seashell on the beach, in the curve of a woman's back, in the texture of an ancient tree trunk, but also in the elusive forms of reality.

There seemed nothing so true as a yellow tree.

The ability to name poetry's gestures and rhetorics isn't required to write or read them, any more than a painter needs to know the physics of color to bring forward a landscape. The eye and hand and ear know what they need to know. Some of us want to know more, because knowing pleases.

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings as now in October.

The Blossoms and leaves in plenty From the apple tree fall each day; The merry breezes approach them, And with them merrily play.