MY NOVEMBER GUEST
Robert Frost
My Sorrow, when shes here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful...
To Autumn
John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun: Conspiring with...
(ANG) Like Decorations in the nigger cemetery
Wallace Stevens
I In the far South the sun of autumn is passing Like Walt Whitman walking along...