| Autumn Splendor |
| These are the days when the birds come back, A very few - a bird or two - To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old, old sphistries of June - A blue and gold mistake. Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. -- Emily Dickinson |
| The goldenrod is yellow, the corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards with fruit are bearing down. From dewey lanes at morning, the grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter with yellow butterflies. By all these lovely tokens, October days are here, With summer's best of weather, and autumn's best of cheer. -- Helen Hunt Jackson |
| Along the line of smoky hills the crimson forest stands, And all the day the blue-jay calls throughout the autumn lands. Now by the brook the maple leans with all his glory spread, And all the sumachs on the hill have turned their green to red. Now by great marshes wrapped in mist, or past some river's mouth, Throughout the long, still autumn day, wild birds are flying south. -- James Whitcomb Riley |
| Music: Colors Autumn Pages Index Friday's Journal Whispers - Home Old New Orleans The photos on this page are courtesy of Kepguru. |
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