EARLY SNOW
Above the forest line
There's been a fall of snow
At variance with autumn's ray;
Yet trees, the color of wine,
Whispered hours ago:
"Frost is on the way."
There's been a fall of snow
At variance with autumn's ray;
Yet trees, the color of wine,
Whispered hours ago:
"Frost is on the way."
Oh, past our narrow view,
There comes a drift of Death,
To love, anomalous and strange:
Yet whispering poets knew:
They marked the dying breath,
Divined the law of change.
There comes a drift of Death,
To love, anomalous and strange:
Yet whispering poets knew:
They marked the dying breath,
Divined the law of change.
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