Oft in orchards frisk and peep us. Stolen sweets are always sweeter;Stolen kisses much completer;Stolen looks are nice in chapels;Stolen, stolen be your apples. When to bed the world are bobbing,Then ’s the time for orchard-robbing;Yet the fruit were scarce worth peelingWere it not for...
Poem about Autumn 'Tis autumn now; the corn is cut, But other gifts for us are spread, The purple plum, the ripe brown nut, And pears and apples, streaked with red, Among the dark green branches shine, Or on the grass beneath them fall; While full green clusters deck the vine That...
And like bright lamps the fabled apples glow.Full Spring it was—and by rich flowering vines,Dark olive-groves and noble forest-pines,I rode at will; the moist glad air was sweet,The white road rang beneath my horse’s feet,And musing on Ravenna’s ancient name,I watched the day till...
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; To swell the gourd,...
The golden weight of apples.More9)In the autumnThe beautiful summer passed away, The autumn, the rich, moved into the country. Now all the good spiders weave Many a fine festive garment.More10)Autumn songAutumn lies on all paths, In a hundred colors flaunts his dress, As his sorrow, ...
and when dawn sings in the plane-trees, afar,fetch bananas and pineapples from the bazaar.All day your bare feet go where they wishas you hum old lost melodies under your breath,and when evening’s red cloak descends overheadyou lie down sweetly on a straw bed,...
- Henry David Thoreau,Wild Apples, 1892 "Now the corn mazes truly are frightening; bedraggled hulking husks of a sinister thinness, looming and swaying over the tamped-down paths littered with their fallen hides — ochre’d in the early winter darkness, ...
To Autumn 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-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, ...
Before green apples blush,Before green nuts embrown,Why, one day in the countryIs worth a month in town;Is worth a day and a yearOf the dusty, musty, lag-last fashionThat days drone elsewhere. “Summer and Winter” by Percy Bysshe Shelley It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,Towards...
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees,