Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
I’m entirely with Emily Brontë in preferring autumn to any other season. I love the colours, the low light and long shadows, the smell of woodsmoke, the misty mornings and the feeling of sweet melancholy.