There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, Hath a toothless mastiff bitch.

Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.

A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me He…

One only leaf upon the top of a tree - the sole remaining leaf - danced round and round like a rag blown by the wind.

Autumn is a second Spring when every leaf is a flower.

'It was ideal apple-eating weather; the whitest sunlight descended from the purest sky, and an easterly wind rustled, without ripping loose, the last of the le…