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

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

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

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

Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile."

[Indian Summer]

The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.