Autumn Poems

Autumn is the time of ripening. All hopes of spring and all actions of summer are finished with autumn. Nature in its adult state inspires for solitude and thinking. Carpet of orange, yellow and brown leafs is the best field for long walks.

After gathering all harvest autumn offers time to think about all that had happened in two past seasons.

Poetry about autumn is mostly sad and nostalgic. Those poems are filled with memories of past. Creators of those pieces recall their past times and share them to all readers. And in many ways this type of read is pleasant.

Poetry About Autumn




The goldenrod is yellow,

The corn is turning brown...

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

(Helen Hunt Jackson)



Flowers, cold from the dew,

And autumn's approaching breath,

I pluck for the warm, luxuriant braids,

Which haven't faded yet.


In their nights, fragrantly resinous,

Entwined with delightful mystery,

They will breathe in her springlike

Extraordinary beauty.


But in a whirlwind of sound and fire,

From her shing head they will flutter

And fall—and before her

They will die, faintly fragrant still.


And, impelled by faithful longing,

My obedient gaze will feast upon them—

With a reverent hand,

Love will gather their rotting remains.

(Anna Akhmatova)



On a bare branch

A crow is perched -

Autumn evening

(Matsuo Bashō)



Yellow, mellow, ripened days,

Sheltered in a golden coating;

O'er the dreamy, listless haze,

White and dainty cloudlets floating;

Winking at the blushing trees,

And the sombre, furrowed fallow;

Smiling at the airy ease,

Of the southward flying swallow.

Sweet and smiling are thy ways,

Beauteous, golden Autumn days

(Will Carleton)



Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.

 (John Keats)



Besides the Autumn poets sing

A few prosaic days

A little this side of the snow

And that side of the Haze...

Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind—

Thy windy will to bear!

(Emily Dickinson)



Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day!

Every leaf speaks bliss to me,

Fluttering from the autumn tree...

(Emily Bronte)



O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe;

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.

(William Blake)



October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came-

The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand,

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

(George Cooper)