Vae Victis!
Here in this isle
The summer still lingers,
And Autumn's brown fingers
So busy the while
With the leaves in the north;
Are scarcely put forth
In this land where the sun still glows like an ember,.
In mid-November.
In England it's cold,
And the yellow and red
Of October have fled ;
And the sun is wet gold
Like an emperor weeping,
When Death goes a-reaping
All through his empire, merciless comer
The dead things of summer.
The sky has cried so
That the earth is all sodden,
With dead leaves in-trodden,
And the trees to and fro
Wave their arms in the air
In despair, in despair :
They are thinking of all the hot days that are over,
And the cows in the clover.
Here the roses are out,
And the sun at high noon
Makes the birds faint and swoon.
But the cricket's about
With his song, and the hum
Of the bees as they come
To feast at the honey-board laden and groaning,
Makes musical droning.
But vainly, alas !
Do I hide in the south,
Kiss close with my mouth
Red flowers, green grass,
For Autumn has found me
And thrown her arms around me.
She has breathed on my lips and I wander apart,
Dead leaves in my heart.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas

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Autumn Days
I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.
And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.
Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!
Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,
And he fires the sere leaves as they lie
On their bed of earth, too late.
They are dead, and the bare trees weep
Not loud as a mortal weeping,
But as sorrow that sighs in sleep,
And as grief that is still in sleeping.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas

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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens

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Farewell To Summer
It has begun: a few leaves are falling;
Autumn has started its gentle calling.
Summer is slowly coming to an end;
Now autumn wants to be our friend.
During autumn, we may feel a little cold,
But, in return, we've been promised gold.
Golden leaves will be found all around:
Up in the trees, and down on the ground.
Leaves of yellow, brown, orange, and fiery red,
Will form a coloured carpet to soften our tread.
We'll be presented with a whole wealth of riches,
As, from summer to autumn, the season switches.
The tall, towering trees will be set ablaze,
As traces of summer are slowly erased.
Sorely missed will be summer's long days;
Sorely missed will be summer's warm rays.
But time moves on, and the summer must go;
No doubt we'll be dazzled by autumn's show.
Autumn prefers to paint us a different scene;
It likes to wipe summer's colour palette clean.
Some say farewell to summer with a sad tear,
But, others much prefer this time of the year.
Chill September mornings may be here again,
But our memories of this summer will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow

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Resurgam
(Autumn Song)
Chill breezes moaning are
Where leaves hang yellow:
O'er the grey hills afar
Flies the last swallow;
To come again, my love, to come again
Blithe with the summer.
But Ah! the long months ere we welcome then
That bright new comer.
Cold lie the flowers and dead
Where leaves are falling.
Meekly they bowed and sped
At Autumn's calling.
To come again, my love, to come again
Blithe with the swallow.
Ah! might I dreaming lie at rest till then,
Or rise and follow!
The summer blooms are gone,
And bright birds darting;
Cold lies the earth forlorn;
And we are parting.
To meet again, my love, to meet again
In deathless greeting,
But ah! what wintry bitterness of pain
Ere that far meeting!
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel

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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait

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Autumn
(10/13/11)
The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.
then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.
The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.
But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.
The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.
(memories are made of this- like the song)
poem by Louis Rams

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`Resurgam
(Autumn Song)
Chill breezes moaning are
Where leaves hang yellow:
O'er the grey hills afar
Flies the last swallow;
To come again, my love, to come again
Blithe with the summer.
But Ah! the long months ere we welcome then
That bright new comer.
Cold lie the flowers and dead
Where leaves are falling.
Meekly they bowed and sped
At Autumn's calling.
To come again, my love, to come again
Blithe with the swallow.
Ah! might I dreaming lie at rest till then,
Or rise and follow!
The summer blooms are gone,
And bright birds darting;
Cold lies the earth forlorn;
And we are parting.
To meet again, my love, to meet again
In deathless greeting,
But ah! what wintry bitterness of pain
Ere that far meeting!
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel

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Autumn Is Brown!
The colour of Autumn is brown
Like the leaves of Spring are crown!
The colour of Winter is white
Like the Summer heat at its height!
Falling dry leaves are symbol of Autumn
After flowers of Spring with bees hum!
Autumn is the symbol of wisdom ever
After rich growth of fruits in Spring sure!
Rain in Autumn is joyful as in heaven
Just as for the birds trees are haven!
Autumn ever denotes mental maturity
Just as fully grown flowers of beauty!
poem by Ramesh T A

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Indian summer
O sweet, sad autumn of the waning year,
Though in thy bowers the roses all lie dead,
And from thy woods the song of birds has fled,
And winter, stern and cold, is hovering near;
Yet from thy presence breathes a holy calm.
The fervid heats, the lightning storms, all past,
A tender light o'er earth and sky is cast,
And all thy solemn voices chant a psalm.
Oh, Indian Summer, autumn of the soul,
That no returning Spring shall visit more,
Though all thy rose-hued morning dreams are o'er,
And phantoms dread stand threat'ning at the goal,
Yet are these days dear as e'en Summer knew;
These Sibylline leaves of life, so precious, since so few.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dead Leaves
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!
How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --
When these dead leaves were green.
How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read --
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between --
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!
How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.
Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.
poem by Edward Booth Loughran

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Hendecasyllabics
In the month of the long decline of roses
I, beholding the summer dead before me,
Set my face to the sea and journeyed silent,
Gazing eagerly where above the sea-mark
Flame as fierce as the fervid eyes of lions
Half divided the eyelids of the sunset;
Till I heard as it were a noise of waters
Moving tremulous under feet of angels
Multitudinous, out of all the heavens;
Knew the fluttering wind, the fluttered foliage,
Shaken fitfully, full of sound and shadow;
And saw, trodden upon by noiseless angels,
Long mysterious reaches fed with moonlight,
Sweet sad straits in a soft subsiding channel,
Blown about by the lips of winds I knew not,
Winds not born in the north nor any quarter,
Winds not warm with the south nor any sunshine;
Heard between them a voice of exultation,
'Lo, the summer is dead, the sun is faded,
Even like as a leaf the year is withered,
All the fruits of the day from all her branches
Gathered, neither is any left to gather.
All the flowers are dead, the tender blossoms,
All are taken away; the season wasted,
Like an ember among the fallen ashes.
Now with light of the winter days, with moonlight,
Light of snow, and the bitter light of hoarfrost,
We bring flowers that fade not after autumn,
Pale white chaplets and crowns of latter seasons,
Fair false leaves (but the summer leaves were falser),
Woven under the eyes of stars and planets
When low light was upon the windy reaches
Where the flower of foam was blown, a lily
Dropt among the sonorous fruitless furrows
And green fields of the sea that make no pasture:
Since the winter begins, the weeping winter,
All whose flowers are tears, and round his temples
Iron blossom of frost is bound for ever.'
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Wind Chill On A Summer Day
It should be a summer's day
It was hot and shiny yesterday
It might be that
Autumn comes to the site
And with Summer it had a big fight
Summer was defeated and took flight
While on the victory side
Autumn laughs with wholehearted delight
The Autumn wind is strong
The Autumn wind is chill
It is chill
But humans bear it with a song
For they don't like the summer heat
And the air conditioning bills they paid made their feelings strong
The wind acts like an old mad witch
Soon pounds of green leaves fall to the ground
On which
A dead body of a beautiful butterfly princess is found
poem by Cathy Shao

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When leaves fall in autumn
When leaves fall in autumn, lying all over the place
with the smell of decline penetrating,
in colours of yellow, brown and gold
nature is caught in a circle
in which life and death is present,
the dead leaves becomes the fertilizer
for new life sprouting from seeds
when the earth again brings forth life
and continuously this cycle proceeds
until trees are full of flowers, later full of fruit.
poem by Gert Strydom

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVIII
HE LAMENTS THAT HIS LOVE IS DEAD
My love is dead, dead and in spite of me,--
Dead while I lived,--while yet my blood was rife
With hope and pleasure and the pride of life.
For my love ended unexpectedly
During the Winter, stricken like a tree
By a night's cold, and frozen to the blood,
Whose leaves fell off and never were renewed
By any promise of the years to be.
And, when the Spring came, and the birds, to mate
Among its branches, lo! they found it bare,
Though all around was Summer in the wood.
Yet they took heart awhile, incredulous
That such a tree should be for ever dead.
``'Tis early yet,'' they cried. ``The Spring is late.
It shall still be as in the days that were.''
But Summer came and went while the tree stood
Bare in the sun like a deserted house.
--Then the birds suddenly despaired and fled.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

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Autumn My Dear
I
Autumn my dear!
Thy winds are cool and sharp
And are mine to embrace
Even as I draw you near
I sniff the traditional odour
Of dead leaves and lavender...
Oh, how they have haunted me
Since late December;
That I wished it early October
II
Autumn my dear!
Orange by they favourite colour
To alleviate the people's fear
Of dying Summer,
Idyllic paradise,
That you have replaced
To my heart sprung joy
My Autumn, ever dearest,
I have waited ever long
III
Autumn my dear!
The harvest has been reaped,
And the leaves have long been scattered
From the trees your winds have shattered
The trees have since weeped,
As you drew near.
poem by Ryan C. Walker

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Autumn Leaves
I still hearken a little deep
from the rolled out time
the last song of cuckoo
humming through the hot winds.
The scents of last spring-flower
still drift through
my dried up nasal lanes.
Today walking silently
over the crackling autumn leaves
I rue for the withered
bed of roses that once paved my way
towards a breathing heaven of verve.
The parched earth and naked trees
stand before me
like fossils
of the deceased last spring.
The desiccated bed
of my garden-pond
it seems,
has no tears to shed
at her robbed off
once brimming water wealth.
Where are those bunnies
and little squirrels that sprinted,
rollicked and rocked
over my grassy lawn?
Where's grass?
Where's lawn?
Under the searing Sun
where are smiles, glee, bliss and prank?
The dead autumn leaves
under my feet
whispered in husky, crackling tones
the secret of seasons:
"We're dead...interred we reach soon
our mother roots' bed.
We'll sprout again
as leaves tender, sleek and charming...
no death to us...
no dearth
for green-green wealth.
Every autumn is followed
by a new spring.
poem by Sathya Narayana

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Autumn Leaves Changing Colors
As summer ends and autumn comes
Days get shorter, misty and cold
And in this spectacular season
Nature's beauty graciously unfold
Trees get ready to slow down
And in autumn take some rest
And show amazing colors of love
That are all at their best
Green fades away quickly
And yellow and orange appear
To show off their vibrant hues
And warmup their surrounding dear
Sunlight and cool nights of autumn
Help leaves to turn orangish red
And combine all things smoothly
To add magic in season's lovely bed
And all this shedding and replacement
Of leaves continue throughout the year
And trees only shed leaves in autumn
To prepare for another winter dear
This is God's spectacular display
Of beautiful colors of the fall
During which many changes occur
Including yellow, orange and red of all.
***Inspired by the changing colors of autumn in Canada.
poem by Seema Chowdhury

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Autumn Leaves
The falling leaves.... pass by my window
The autumn leaves...of red and gold
I see your lips...your summer kisses
The sunburned hands...I used to know
Ummm...since you went away
The days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
Ooooh, but I'll miss you most of all
My darling.... when autumn leaves...
start to fall
Ooooh...... I said I miss you most of all
My darling....when autumn leaves
start to fall............
song performed by by Tom Jones

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Signs Of Fall
It was a ceremony of Sparrows
Their Psalms sung on bare branches
Of Fall
Breaking, 'tis the dawn, through my frosty window
Opening to their crisp
Musical Call
The orange and gold, fallen leaves
Blow their way towards God
And The Aristocrat
Of the Robin-Red-Breast
Leaves his remanents
Upon, The New Fall Sod
The Pumpkins, they are ever ripening...
The Gourds and maze, adorn
Waving it's goodbye in the breeze
The End of Summer
With open arms, welcomed in
Autumns New Morn
The once, moist, glistening of dew
Counted on, during late summer days
Has become crystal-like
To Frosty
With each day, That Autumn Makes her way
The Equinox has now, come and gone
...When hours of light and dark equate
Making it ever
SO Official
That Autumn 'Tis Never Late
poem by Theodora Onken

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Dear Summer
Dear summer,
It all happen on april 13th
It was the brightest day I have seen
The sun was shinning bright and the air was fresh,
And the green grass remind me why you summer are the best.
I no longer felt down cause you were around
Aand I felt like the luckiest girl cause it was summer I found
I thought of how I could repay you for all the love you gave me
Cause summer your love was simply amazing
You made the dead butterflies in my stomach revive
How can summer this year make me feel so alive?
I could of sworn this summer would last me forever
But everyone would warn me to be a bit clever
Cause seasons always change and weather changes moods.
And when my summer is here she helps the flowers bloom
But the flowers all die when its winter cause of the cold
I guess no one takes heed to what they are told.
Well im sorry my summer but today the sun isn't shining as bright
And when day light savings bbegins I gets colder at night.
Summer I noticed the leaves are starting to die
And the flowers that you love are no longer alive.
All the birds fly north and I just feel empty inside.
All of this is happening summer cause you were a lie.
They're all sick of the false hopes that you have brought them
But maybe we'll all find real love in autumn.
poem by Selina Cobain

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