Yellow, red, and green and brown,

See, the little leaves come down.

Dancing, dancing in the breeze,

Falling, falling from the trees.


Warm September brings the fruit,

Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

October brings the pheasant,

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast,

Then the leaves are wiring fast.

I love fall! - Я люблю осень

I love fall! Fall is exciting.
It's apples and cider.
It's an airborne spider.
It's pumpkins in bins.
It's burrs on dog's chins.
It's wind blowing leaves.
It's chilly red knees.
It's nuts on the ground.
It's a crisp dry sound.
It's green leaves turning
And the smell of them burning.
It's clouds in the sky.
It's fall. That's why...
I love fall.

Осенний ветер

"Come," said the Wind to the Leaves one day.
"Come over the meadow and we will play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold.
For summer is gone and the days grow cold."

Осень пришла...

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here
With summer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer.


Emily Dickinson

When everything that ticked has stopped,
And space stares, all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,
Repeal the beating ground.

Гармония в осени

Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is a harmony
In autumn, and a luster in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been!

Осень пришла...

Bright summer days are now over,
Green leaves will all soon be gone,
Fresh landscapes are turning golden
Like solid rays of the sun.
Lingering trees in the distance
Filling my heart to the most,
My life will turn in the meantime
Into unsubstantial ghost.

The Milkweed - Молочай осенью

Cecil Cavendish

The milkweed pods are breaking,
And the bits of silken down
Float off upon the autumn breeze
Across the meadows brown.

A Fall Song - Песня осени

by Ellen Robena Field

Golden and red trees
Nod to the soft breeze,
As it whispers, "Winter is near;"
And the brown nuts fall
At the wind's loud call,
For this is the Fall of the year.

Good-by, sweet flowers!
Through bright Summer hours
You have filled our hearts with cheer
We shall miss you so,
And yet you must go,
For this is the Fall of the year.

Now the days grow cold,
As the year grows old,
And the meadows are brown and sere;
Brave robin redbreast
Has gone from his nest,
For this is the Fall of the year.

I do softly pray
At the close of day,
That the little children, so dear,
May as purely grow
As the fleecy snow
That follows the Fall of the year.



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