Robert Frost Quotes

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

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

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.

Through the dripping weeks that follow One another slow, and soak Summer's extinguished fire and autumn's drifting smoke.

O suns and skies and clouds of June, and flowers of June together. Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.

Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the winter's snow.

It is a sad moment when the first phlox appears. It is the amber light indicating the end of the great burst of early summer and suggesting that we must now start looking forward to autumn. Not that I have any objection to autumn as a season, full of its own beauty; but I just cannot bear to see another summer go, and I recoil from what the first hint of autumn means.

Autumn truly is what summer pretends to be: the best of all seasons. It is as glorious as summer is tedious; as subtle as summer is obvious; as refreshing as summer is wearying. Autumn seems like paradise.

Now in November nearer comes the sun down the abandoned heaven.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen.

Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves.... The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes.

It's autumn and everybody feels like a disembodied spirit then.

Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.

The autumn always gets me badly, as it breaks into colours. 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 morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

I love the chill October days, when the brown leaves lie thick and sodden underneath your feet ... the evenings in late autumn time, when the white mist creeps across the fields, making it seem as though old Earth, feeling the night air cold to its poor bones, were drawing ghostly bedclothes round its withered limbs.

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tendered kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.