Of no distemper, of no blast he died,

But fell like autumn fruit that mellow'd long,—

Even wonder'd at, because he dropp'd no sooner.

Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years,

Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more;

Till like a clock worn out with eating time,

The wheels of weary life at last stood still.

John Dryden (1631-1701): oedipus. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I trust in Nature for the stable laws

Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant

And Autumn garner to the end of time.

I trust in God,—the right shall be the right

And other than the wrong, while he endures.

I trust in my own soul, that can perceive

The outward and the inward,—Nature's good

And God's.

Robert Browning (1812-1890): A Soul's Tragedy. Act i.

Autumn nodding o'er the yellow plain.

James Thomson (1700-1748): The Seasons. Autumn. Line 2.

For his bounty,

There was no winter in 't; an autumn 't was

That grew the more by reaping.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Antony and Cleopatra. Act v. Sc. 2.

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.

Tears from the depth of some divine despair

Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy autumn-fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892): The Princess. Part iv. Line 21.