coffee, book, fall leaves

Fall, the loveliest season to some, is now upon us. While spring is the time of year known for new beginnings, fall is a season that reminds us of change and how truly beautiful it can be. Take a moment for yourself and sink into this selection of fall poetry like a heap of autumn’s fallen leaves.

If You Were Coming in the Fall – by Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,

I’d brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,

I’d wind the months in balls,

And put them each in separate drawers,

Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,

I’d count them on my hand,

Subtracting till my fingers dropped

Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,

That yours and mine should be,

I’d toss it yonder like a rind,

And taste eternity.

 

 

 

two leaves on water

Image via Unsplash under license CC0

 

fromAutumn” – by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

With what a glory comes and goes the year!

The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers

Of sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy

Life’s newness, and earth’s garniture spread out;

And when the silver habit of the clouds

Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with

A sober gladness the old year takes up

His bright inheritance of golden fruits,

A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scene.

pumpkins

Image via Morguefile under the morgueFile License

 

Fall, leaves, fall – by Emily Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me,

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night’s decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

leaves between trees

Image via Snapwire Snaps under license CC0 1.0

 

Trees – by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

a poem as lovely as a tree.

 

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

 

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

 

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

 

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

 

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

golden trees

Image via Splitshire under license CC0