Walks in New England By Charles Goodrich Whiting

The forest bloom has departed, the birds have flown, the squirrels and the boys are a-nutting; on the roadsides few flowers besides the asters linger and the long sprays of the wreath goldenrod, the humbler members of the sunflower kindred and the late gentians; in the fields appear those second blossoms that spring from the mowed down golden-rods, ox-eye daisies and black-eyed Susans. Down the forest aisles streams the unique magnetic fragrance of the witch hazel, which only of all fragrances could harmonize with the sacred sweetness of the autumn woodland. A familiar of the flowers knows that a month hence he shall find these and a score of flowers besides, in places that he wots of, but to the general eye the gay children of Nature have departed, and winter seems waiting around the corner to close the door.

File:Peder Mork Mönsted Autumn in the birchwood.jpg
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