Hallows Everyday 8

To Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit,

and stained with the blood of the grape,

Pass not, but sit beneath my shady roof;

There thou may'st rest,

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe;

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.

William Blake, 1793

Blessings nine!