It also makes me think of Robert Frost, who seems like such an autumny poet. For this Poetry Friday, I've selected excerpts from "Mending Wall."
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
. . . . . I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
Go here for the rest of the poem. It's really quite good, and you'll see I left the classic line out, twice.
I suppose I could have gone with "After Apple-Picking" to be more in line with the Autumn theme, but "Mending Wall" makes me smile more.