"Spring and Fall," (to a young child) by Gerard Manley Hopkins has always resonated with me. Like this season, it is ineffably beautiful, yet suffused with sadness. (You can click on embedded album to enlarge photos if you want, then click on "Full Screen" and hit play button to see slideshow)
Margaret, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.