Facing Autumn, oil on board, 51 x 60 cm
Oh it’s a long, long while
from May ‘till December
And the days grow short
When you reach September.
When the Autumn weather
turns the leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time
For the waiting game.
For the days dwindle down
To a precious few...
September...November...
from September Song composed Kurt Weill, lyrics Maxwell Anderson.
The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear
Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn
And the snore of the night in my ear.
For suddenly, flush-fallen,
All my life, in a rush
Of shedding away, has left me
Naked, exposed on the bush.
from Dolor of Autumn, D. H. Lawrence
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