Something waits underneath it, the complete story cannot reveal
“The season provides turned the network, The times of year appear and disappear. The amass most of the are gathered inside the And you will cold northern winds strike. Orchards have common the secrets, New industries, their red cereals, Thus discover greater the entranceway- Thanksgiving arrives again!”
“I like winter and you may slip, when you feel the bones structure of your landscape – the new loneliness of it, new lifeless sense of winter months. ” – Andrew Wyeth
“I am the brand new old Fruit Queen, Once the while i is actually therefore was We today. To own evermore a pledge unseen, Betwixt this new bloom and also the bough.
“Fall comes, array’d during the splendid mein; Vines, cluster’d full, enhance the beauteous world, And you will fruits-woods cloth’d abundantly stuffed, nod, Grievance bowing into rich sod.” – Farmer’s Almanac (1818)
“It absolutely was Autumn, and you can incessant Piped the latest quails regarding unexpected situations and sheaves And you can, particularly life coals, brand new oranges Burnt one of several withering renders.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Along the river and you can from timber Oh, how the wind really does strike! It stings the fresh feet And you may bites brand new nostrils, Since along side ground i wade.
Over the river and you can from the timber Getting a primary-price play. Pay attention to the newest bells band, Ting-a-ling-ling! Hurrah to have Thanksgiving Go out!” – Linda Maria Man, Over the River
“In the near future we are going to diving ourselves towards cold shadows, And all sorts of summer’s fantastic afternoons would-be moved. We already pay attention to the newest dead thuds away from logs less than Dropping towards the this new cobblestones together with lawn.
Every one of cold temperatures have a tendency to go back to me: derision, Hate, shuddering, headache, drudgery and you may vice, And exiled, such as the sunlight, in order to a polar prison, My personal soul will solidify on a great cut-off from yellow freeze.” – Charles Baudelaire, Trip Song