Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. — Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. — Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. — Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. — Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak. — Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
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Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak.

— Susan Lendroth, Ocean Wide, Ocean Deep
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More “Autumn” Quotes

Autumn is an interesting season, even in the metaphor of life, is a time of decline, of loss, but also intense and haunt — Luigina Sgarro
The gold and scarlet leaves that littered the countryside in great drifts whispered and chuckled among themselves, or to — Gerald Durrell, My Family and Other Animals
We should wait six-seven months. Maybe, upon spring's arrival, our love would blossom. As of now, dry-lifeless-forlorn, — Saru Singhal
Dorcas wasn't a fast walker. It was difficult for me to keep behind her. I tried to let others, joggers, and bicyclists, — Joyce Carol Oates, Beasts
I told some imprecisely imagined interlocutor that each year I hoped to have outgrown being moved by the autumn and each — Brigid Brophy, The King of a Rainy Country
November--with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westeri — L.M. Montgomery
Wind warns November’s done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious. — Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems
Then that night there was an early frost, and by Sunday morning, autumn had truly arrived. The sky was a rich cloudless — Jeanne Birdsall
In September countless sand and house-martins jazz above the river, taking insects from the surface, from the air, thous — Kathleen Jamie, Frissure: Prose Poems and Artworks
It was one of those perfect fall days when the air is cool enough to wake you up but the sun is also kissing your face. — Anita Diamant, The Boston Girl
The last dying days of summer, fall coming on fast. A cold night, the first of the season, a change from the usual bland — Poppy Z. Brite
Autumn was her happiest season. There was an expectancy about its sounds and shapes: the distant thunk pomp of leather a — Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman