A short poem for the day, Autumn in Yorkshire

My poem for the day is by Emily Bronte (1818-1848). It's quite short and so I'll refresh your memories about who she was. There were about six Bronte siblings. the most famous being Anne, Charlotte and Emily. They wrote under the pseudonym of Bell, Acton, Currer and Ellis, each using their own initial. They had a brother called Patrick who by all accounts was fond of his sisters and encouraged them with their literary efforts.  As is often the case when they lost their vivacious and happy mother, life became difficult and sad for them and they all reacted in different ways. Research is still being done into their lives and there is no doubt that they are quite an interesting lot. Charlotte is probably best known for 'Jane Eyre', Anne for 'Agnes Grey' and Emily for 'Wuthering Heights'. Depending how you look at it, Wuthering Heights could be viewed as violent and morbid or romantic and passionate.
This verse by Emily Bronte is just right for this weekend when we put the clocks back and are made aware that Winter is round the corner. the leaves that have been clinging valiantly to the trees to show off their fine colours can be swept to the ground by a sudden squall. Oh yes, by the way, the Brontes grew up in Yorkshire and it is such a beautiful county that anyone who has been there can  easily see how inspiring the natural beauty of the moors and dales could be.

Fall leaves, Fall, Emily Bronte

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers ,away
Lengthen night and shorten day,
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the Autumn tree
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Just to remind you about the clocks there is a saying 'Spring forward, Fall back'.
you can fall forward and I suppose you could spring back.

The Lake District

Northern England

The Yorkshire moors

'I was only going to say that heaven did not seem to be my home, and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth, and the angels were so angry that they flung me out, into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights, where I woke sobbing for joy.'

Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights