I Retire With A Smile On My Face, In Good Health, And Ready To Spend Autumns At My Kids' Games Instead Of My Own. I'm Excited To Start The Next Chapter Of My Life.
The Spirits Of The Air Live On The Smells Of Fruit; And Joy, With Pinions Light, Roves Round The Gardens, Or Sits Singing In The Trees.
I Love Corduroys , Because They Are Really Comfy And They're Cozier Than Jeans. They Come In Nice Autumn Hues - Colors That You Can Have Fun With.
The Aster Has Not Wasted Spring And Summer Because It Has Not Blossomed. It Has Been All The Time Preparing For What Is To Follow, And In Autumn It Is The Glory Of The Field, And Only The Frost Lays It Low. So There Are Many People Who Must Live Forty Or Fifty Years, And Have The Crude Sap Of Their Natural Dispositions Changed And Sweetened Before The Blossoming Time Can Come; But Their Lives Have Not Been Wasted.
October Is Nature's Funeral Month. Nature Glories In Death More Than In Life. The Month Of Departure Is More Beautiful Than The Month Of Coming - October Than May. Every Green Thin Loves To Die In Bright Colors.
What If The Leaves Were To Fall A-weeping, And Say, "it Will Be So Painful For Us To Be Pulled From Our Stalks, When Autumn Comes?" Foolish Fear! Summer Goes, And Autumn Succeeds. The Glory Of Death Is Upon The Leaves; And The Gentlest Breeze That Blows Takes Them Softly And Silently From The Bough, And They Float Slowly Down, Like Fiery Sparks, Upon The Moss.
I Watch The Springs, The Summers, The Autumns; And When Comes The Winter Snow Monotonous, I Shut All The Doors And Shutters To Build In The Night My Fairy Palace.
Soon We Will Plunge Ourselves Into Cold Shadows, And All Of Summer's Stunning Afternoons Will Be Gone. I Already Hear The Dead Thuds Of Logs Below Falling On The Cobblestones And The Lawn.
