They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowI hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowAutumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow