Autumn days

Welcome to you, rich Autumn days,

Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind;

When golden stocks are seen in fields,

All standing arm-in-arm entwined;

And gallons of sweet cider seen

On trees in apples red and green.

 

With mellow pears that cheat our teeth,

Which melt that tongues may suck them in;

With blue-black damsons, yellow plums,

And  woodnuts rich, to make us go

Into the loneliest lanes we know.

                            (W. H. Davies)