FastSaying
This sunlight shames November where he grieves In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun The day, though bough with bough be overrun. But with a blessing every glade receives High salutation.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Autumn
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The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.
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Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies? Nay, who but infants question in such wise, 'twas one of my most intimate enemies.
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Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, A-top on the topmost twig--which the pluckers forgot, somehow-- Forgot it not, nay, but got it not, for none could get it till now.
— Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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