There he goes, in his long russet surtout, sweeping down yonder gravel-walk, beneath the trees, like a yellow leaf in autumn wafted along by a fitful gust of wind. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, of Monsieur d’Argentville

[T]he sun declined, and we both fell into twilight silence. Night, which in autumn seems to fall from the sky at once, it comes so quickly, chilled us, and we rolled ourselves in our cloaks… – Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly, Les Diaboliques

…I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house. So I have spent almost all the daylight hours in the open air. – Nathaniel Hawthorne, 10th October 1842