On Autumn...

Having just studied "To Autumn" by Keats, my class was tasked with coming up with a sonnet as a celebration to autumn. Here's my sonnet, Shakespearean in structure. Please comment on it, as this is my first sonnet that I've written;

On Autumn

Many a day I gaze upon shadows,

Darkened by the withering trees of life,

Melodious scent of new fragrant boughs,

Fill up nostrils before cut down by knife.

Fruit of new harvest gleaned by old reapers,

Then stored away by creatures far and wide,

Held up by roots of tall and strengthened firs,

And golden leaves fall down by old way-side.

Why is this season so short? And full of

death, while leaves do fall from heaven's night sky?

I do feel faint and wish for wings of dove,

To fly where Sun and Moon and Stars sleep nigh.

To hold in my hands the gift of time lost,

Before all things are brought to ground by frost.