At Schloss Neuschwanstein, a castle in the German federal state of Bavaria, Germany

 "I am the Autumn, when "the frost is on

The pumpkin, and the fodder's in the shock."
Within the fields are piles of golden corn;
And apples - yellow, red, and green and gold -
In luscious richness hang upon the trees.
The wayside pond and ev'ry bowing hedge
Are fringed deep with bittersweet and fern.

The cattle browse amidst the residue
Of grass, on browning fields o' er hill and vale;
While solemn blackbirds and the cawing crows
Convention hold with grave and scolding rooks
Where once the wren and robin filled the choir.
The boastful cock rings out his "chanticleer"
That greets the lighted lamp, presage of dawn.

O'er all the lilting earth, the eye takes in
The forest, meadow too, and then the hill:
And afar - the mountains where are outdone
The rainbow's color, shades and brilliant hues:
All red and crimson, purple, saffron, too;
Magenta, orange, blue and yellow bands
So well shot through with evergreen and bronze.

Along the garden walks, the marigold,
Coxcomb, and mango red, bow low their heads:
And, here and there, amidst the ruin's waster
Where beauty's temple rose among the flowers
Petunias old and golden glow still peep
And wait the harder stroke to lay them low:
While brighter, colder grows the moon each night:

From blackened chimneys wisps of smoke curl out.
There is a crispness and a tang in all
The circumambient air that brings new thrusts
Of frost, and wind and sun and stars:
Bright, sunny days, and colder, deeper nights.
Of all the days, the months, and seasons of
The year my hours bring gayest thought and cheer."
-- Autumn Days, by Sanford N. Carpenter
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(at Schloss Neuschwanstein, a castle in the German federal state of Bavaria, where “every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree(*)."
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*An excerpt from this short poem: "Fall, leaves, fall," by Emily Brontë (who lived but a brief 30 years, from 1818-to-1848):

"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."