The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see… — Bliss Carman Copy Share Image
I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again… — Robert Frost Copy Share Image
My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, And lo! beside my path way I behold Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,-- Dying hectic… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
When Jo's conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a "young lady," Jo shouts, "I'm… — Louisa May Alcott Copy Share Image
Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the… — John Greenleaf Whittier Copy Share Image
The aster has not wasted spring and summer because it has not blossomed. It has been all the time preparing for what… — Henry Ward Beecher Copy Share Image
The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
In the evening, I walked alone down to the Lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn… — Thomas Gray Copy Share Image
I held a blue flower in my hand, probably a wild aster, wondering what its name was, and then thought that human… — Sally Carrighar Copy Share Image
I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster, Nor long summer bide so late; And I could grow on… — Jean Ingelow Copy Share Image
Leonard Aster thanked Fighting Prawn and the Mollusk tribe for their hospitality. “You mean,” said Fighting Prawn, “for not killing you?” “Yes,”… — Dave Barry Copy Share Image
The lands are lit with all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, and everywhere the purple asters nod and bend and wave and… — Helen Hunt Copy Share Image
September is a sweep of dusky, purple asters, a sumac branch swinging a fringe of scarlet leaves, and the bittersweet scene of… — Jean Hersey Copy Share Image
His aster-blue eyes shown out from a face blackened by bruises and soot, his fair hair glittering in the firelight. Dressed all… — Cinda Williams Chima Copy Share Image
