Embracing Fall Through Poetry With These 10 Poems for Autumn
As the leaves start their mesmerizing transformation, I can’t help but feel the unmistakable magic of fall in the air. There’s something about this season that stirs the soul, inviting us to cozy up with a warm cup of tea, and dive into the enchanting world of poetry.
In this blog post, I’m excited to share with you a collection of my favorite autumn inspired poems that capture the essence of this season. These verses, penned by contemporary wordsmiths, beautifully echo the sentiments we all hold for fall – from the crisp, earthy scent of fallen leaves to the comforting crackle of a bonfire under a starlit sky.
So, grab your favorite blanket, and let’s enjoy the vibrant tapestry of autumn’s emotions, experiences, and the profound beauty that surrounds us during this magical season. Let the verses of these modern poets whisk you away to the heart of fall, where every word is a leaf, and every line, a gentle rustle in the breeze. 🍂
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Emily Brontë, Fall Leaves Fall
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.
Exploring Emily’s Poetry
Emily was more than just a renowned novelist; she was a masterful poet who spun words like gossamer threads, weaving vivid imagery and emotions into her verses. If her name sounds familiar, it’s probably because of her celebrated novel “Wuthering Heights.” But today, we’re diving into her lesser-known treasure trove – her poetry.
For those of you who, like me, are enchanted by Emily’s evocative words, you’ll be thrilled to know that her complete collection of poems can be found in “Emily Bronte: The Complete Poems.“
Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
Clive James, Japanese Maple
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:
Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?
Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.
My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:
Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colours will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.
Discovering Clive James: ‘Sentenced To Life’
Clive James, originally from sunny Australia, led a fascinating life that encompassed everything from being a critic to an essayist and even a television host. But it was his poetry that caught my attention. His words have a way of seeping into your heart, making you pause, and nod your head knowingly at the complexities of life.
The above poem can be found in ‘Sentenced To Life.‘ That’s one of his poetry collections, and the title itself is a clue to what’s inside. It’s like an unfiltered conversation with yourself about, well, life. As you flip through its pages, you’ll find poems that explore love, nature, the human spirit, and, yes, the big one – mortality.
In the other gardens
Robert Louis Stevenson, Autumn Fires
And all up in the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over,
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
Robert Louis Stevenson’s ‘A Child’s Garden Of Verses’
You might know Robert Louis Stevenson as the author of thrilling tales like ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ But there’s a softer side to him, too, found in ‘A Child’s Garden Of Verses.‘
In Stevenson’s words, “The world is so full of a number of things; I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.”
I love the fitfull gusts that shakes
John Clare, Autumn
The casement all the day
And from the mossy elm tree takes
The faded leaf away
Twirling it by the window-pane
With thousand others down the lane
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve
The sparrow on the cottage rig
Whose chirp would make believe
That spring was just now flirting by
In summers lap with flowers to lie
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the naked trees
The pigeons nestled round the coat
On dull November days like these
The cock upon the dung-hill crowing
The mill sails on the heath a-going
The feather from the ravens breast
Falls on the stubble lea
The acorns near the old crows nest
Fall pattering down the tree
The grunting pigs that wait for all
Scramble and hurry where they fall
More On John Clare
John Clare had a knack for painting the beauty of the English countryside with words. His poem ‘Autumn’ is a heartfelt tribute to this season’s rich colors and rustic charm. Reading Clare’s lines feels like a walk through crunchy leaves on a crisp day, a gentle reminder that autumn isn’t just a season; it’s a nostalgic embrace of days past.
This poem can be found in ‘Read Me 2‘, a delightful collection of poems. It’s a poetic companion that celebrates life’s quirks and mysteries.
the black oaks fling
Mary Oliver, Fall
their bronze fruit
into all the pockets of the earth
pock pock
they knock against the thresholds
the roof the sidewalk
fill the eaves
the bottom line
of the old gold song
of the almost finished year
what is spring all that tender
green stuff
compared to this
falling of tiny oak trees
out of the oak trees
then the clouds
gathering thick along the west
then advancing
then closing over
breaking open
the silence
then the rain
dashing its silver seeds
against the house
The Poetry of Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver had a unique way of capturing the beauty of the natural world in her verses. Her words are like a gentle invitation to step outside, breathe in the crisp autumn air, and lose yourself in the rustling leaves. ‘White Pine,’ in particular, offers a delightful assortment of her autumn-inspired poems, and ‘Fall’ is just one gem from this collection.
Scamper, little leaves, about
Frank Dempster Sherman, Leaves At Play
In the autumn sun;
I can hear the old Wind shout,
Laughing as you run,
And I haven’t any doubt
That he likes the fun.
When you’ve run a month or so,
Very tired you’ll get;
But the same old Wind, I know,
Will be laughing yet
When he tucks you in your snow
Downy coverlet
So, run on and have your play,
Romp with all your might;
Dance across the autumn day,
While the sun is bright.
Soon you’ll hear the old Wind say,
“Little leaves, Good-night!”
Discovering Frank Dempster Sherman: A Poet of Seasons
In my journey to explore the enchanting world of autumn poetry, I stumbled upon a hidden gem—Frank Dempster Sherman. And while Sherman may not be as widely known as some other poets, his work reminds us that there are countless literary treasures waiting to be discovered. It’s the joy of unearthing these hidden gems that makes the world of poetry endlessly fascinating.
If you’re captivated by his poetic brushstrokes, you might want to explore more of Sherman’s creations. His book, “The Poems of Frank Dempster Sherman,” offers a deeper dive into his world of words.
“Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day.
George Cooper, Come Little Leaves
“Come o’er the meadows with me, and play’
Put on your dress of red and gold,—
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold.”
Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs they knew.
“Cricket, good-by, we’ve been friends so long;
Little brook, sing us your farewell song,—
Say you are sorry to see us go;
Ah! you will miss us, right well we know.”
“Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we’ve watched you in vale and glade;
Say, will you dream of our loving shade?”
Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;
Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.
More on poetry:
Incredible poetry. Thank you for sharing.
Loved reading this! Haven’t read poetry for such a long time and this has definitely inspired me. Thanks for sharing
I’m glad you enjoyed it!
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