From 'A Calendar of Sonnets'
The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
October, lavish, flaunts them far and near;
The summer charily her reds doth lay
Like jewels on her costliest array;
October, scornful, burns them on a bier.
The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign
Of kingdom: whiter pearls than winter knew,
Or Empress wore, in Egypt's ancient line,
October, feasting 'neath her dome of blue,
Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through
Sunshiny air, as in a tingling wine!
Helen Hunt Jackson
'O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained with the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest 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 fruits and flowers'. William Blake
Each day of sunshine is a blessing. I fill my soul with each cool, crisp hour; the quick movement of the birds in the garden, the sunlight through the leaves, transparent gold; my hands in the damp earth planting purple allium; fortifying myself with all this loveliness against the dreary days of November.