ABSTRACT
The Japanese quite rightly give the name of Ko haru or Little Spring to the Indian summer, Keats's season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; for indeed those beautiful weeks in November are incomparable, the heavy damp heat of the summer has lifted, the sky is clear and blue, the atmosphere is light, and the freshness of spring seems to have returned to revive the dying year. They say, “Here is the right end, since we had a right start.” These fortunate people who rejoice in the beauty of spring beginning with the plum blossoms born out of the frost, now have the autumn with the momiji or maple leaves to complete the floral season, and the red leaves will be the beauty of the maturing year. Autumn weaves her red and gold brocade and spreads it on mountain and tree, the whole country being alight with the scarlet and gold of the momiji; for not only the maples are called momiji, but any tree whose leaves turn red in their last moment of life.
