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“She did not shut it properly because she knew that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a magic one.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
That time of year thou may'st behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang. — Sonnet LXXIII, by William Shakespeare. Artwork: December, by Kelsey Garrity Riley.
Magical Vintage Harry Potter Book Covers By Olly Moss
November comes, and November goes With the last red berries, and the first white snows. When nights come early and dawn comes late, And there’s ice in the bucket and frost by the gate. The fires burn and the kettles sing, And earth sinks to rest until next Spring. — November, by Elizabeth Coatsworth. Artwork: November, by Kelsey Garrity Riley.
By: N I K K I | nikkiinwanderland
Across the land a faint blue veil of mist Seems hung; the woods wear yet arrayment sober, Till frost shall make them flame; silent and whist The dropping cherry orchards of October Like mournful pennons hang their shriveling leaves Russet and orange: all things now decay; Long since ye garnered in your Autumn sheaves, And sad the robins pipe at set of day. — October, by Siegfried Sassoon. Artwork: October, by Kelsey Garrity Riley.
By: Polly Florence | pollyandbooks
Best I love September’s yellow; Morns of dew-strung gossamer, Thoughtful days without a stir, Rooky clamours, brazen leaves, Stubbles dotted o'er with sheaves, — More than Spring’s bright uncontrol Suit the Autumn of my soul. — Alex Smith. Artwork: September, by Kelsey Garrity Riley.