The word "dis-aster," in fact, means "bad star."

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see the frosty…

— Bliss Carman

I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.

— Robert Frost

My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, And lo! beside my path way I behold Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold Has…

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,-- Dying hectic of leaves…

— Bayard Taylor

My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers…

— Sara Teasdale

When Jo's conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a "young lady," Jo shouts, "I'm not! and…

— Louisa May Alcott

The aster greets us as we pass With her faint smile.

— Sarah Helen Whitman

Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the golden-rod.

— John Greenleaf Whittier

The aster has not wasted spring and summer because it has not blossomed. It has been all the time preparing for what is to…

— Henry Ward Beecher

The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on the hills…

— William C. Bryant

In the evening, I walked alone down to the Lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn coloring of…

— Thomas Gray

I held a blue flower in my hand, probably a wild aster, wondering what its name was, and then thought that human names for…

— Sally Carrighar

I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster, Nor long summer bide so late; And I could grow on like the…

— Jean Ingelow

Leonard Aster thanked Fighting Prawn and the Mollusk tribe for their hospitality. “You mean,” said Fighting Prawn, “for not killing you?” “Yes,” said Leonard.…

— Dave Barry

The lands are lit with all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, and everywhere the purple asters nod and bend and wave and flit.

— Helen Hunt