Autumn Quote by Sara Teasdale Download Open image “My heart is a garden tired with autumn.” — Sara Teasdale ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 3.7 out of 5 (3 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Garden Gardening Heart My heart Tired
My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain - The garden will be hushed with… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, We are happy now because God so wills it; No matter how barren… — James Russell Lowell Copy Share Image
As you get older, the heart shed its leaves like a tree. You cannot hold out against certain winds. Each day tears away a… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
The garden has taught me to live, to appreciate the times when things are fallow and when they're not. — Jamaica Kincaid Copy Share Image
How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive… — George Eliot Copy Share Image
There's this rose in a garden that I can't part. For you are that rose and the garden is my heart — Superman Copy Share Image
I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“In Warsaw in Poland Half the world away, The one I love best of all Thought of me to-day; I know, for I went Winged as a bird, In the wide flowing wind His own voice I heard; His arms were round me In a ferny place, I looked in the pool And there was his face– But now it… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
I am alone, as though I stood On the highest peak of the tired gray world,About me only swirling snow, Above me, endless space… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was not other creature… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“Oh, I could let the world go by, Its loud new wonders and its wars, BUt how will I give up the sky When winter dusk is set with stars? And I could let the cities go, Their changing customs and their creeds,– In silver on the jewel-weeds!” — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
“I gave my first love laughter, I gave my second tears, I gave my third love silence Through all the years. My first love… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“On a midsummer night, on a night that was eerie with stars, In a wood too deep for a single star to look through, You led down a path whose turnings you knew in the darkness, But the scent of the dew-dripping cedars was all that I knew. I drank of the darkness, I was fed with the honey of… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
“ At Night Love said, "Wake still and think of me," Sleep, "Close your eyes till break of day," But Dreams came by and… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart the breaks. The hearts asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold,… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
This, at last, was where things were as they ought to be. Everything was in its place -- the tree, the earth underneath, the rock, the moss. In autumn, it would be right; in winter under the snow, it would be perfect in its wintriness. Spring would come again and miracle within miracle would unfold, each at its special pace,… — Jean Liedloff Copy Share
The American spring is by no means so agreeable as the American autumn; both move with faltering step, and slow; but this lingering pace,… — Frances Trollope Copy Share Image
“Flowers that had bloomed brilliant from spring through autumn blackened under the killing frost.” — Nora Roberts Copy Share Image
“FALL I've never liked orange not even a hint of yellow though that doesn't mean I'm derange, you know. but it's still a riddle… — Kynna Claire Copy Share Image
The trees change their voices in autumn as well as their shapes. No longer do they whisper to one another in muffled tones as they did in summer; they talk in a different leaf-language now. The wind moves through the boughs like fingers drawn across the strings of a harp filling the air with the harsh dry sound of sapless… — Patience Strong Copy Share
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“Easter blessings All life’s sacrifices like autumn leaves awaken our senses and power to love and be whole Our Mother Earth, Our Father Sky… — Ramon Ravenswood Copy Share Image
The lush green of the fields became a rich gold that swayed sturdily under the wind and fell at last before the hands of… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
The ascent of any route begins, in dreams at least, the autumn before. Our minds ring, involuntarily, with the alluring names of mountains, aiguilles, faces and ridges, Is it the name itself which is so tempting, or the picture we have of the mountain itself, or does the appeal come from our feeling of the actual process of climbing? All… — Gaston Rebuffat Copy Share
