Autumn wins you best by this, its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

How well I know what I mean to do / When the long, dark autumn-evenings come.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

Halloween creatures both friendly & gruesome peered out of the rustling leaves.