Fall poetry

There was a time when I hated fall because it meant going back to school. I also couldn't have cared less for poetry because we had to learn it by heart in literature class and read it out loud in front of the classmates (boy, was that embarrassing!).
Now I’m old enough to appreciate them both on my own terms. Here is a fragment of one of my favorite poet's poem:

A mournful time of year! Its sad enchantment

flatters my vision with a parting grace –

I love the sumptuous glow of fading nature,

the forests clad in crimson and in gold,

the shady coolness and the wind's dull roaring,

the heavens all shrouded in a billowing mist

and the rare gleams of sun, the early hoarfrosts,

and distant grey-beard winter's gloomy portents.

Aleksandr Pushkin, AUTUMN

Унылая пора! Очей очарованье!

Приятна мне твоя прощальная краса —

Люблю я пышное природы увяданье,

В багрец и в золото одетые леса,

В их сенях ветра шум и свежее дыханье,

И мглой волнистою покрыты небеса,

И редкий солнца луч, и первые морозы,

И отдаленные седой зимы угрозы.

Александр Пушкин, Осень