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Thursday, July 27, 2017

Waiting for Autumn

It is Autumn; not without but within, gives my longing soul ... cold.
Youth and spring are all about; It is the I, that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air, Singing, building without gold;
Life is stirring everywhere, Save within my lonely hold.
There is silence in this dieing leaves... fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves, comes no murmur from that life mill.