These trees, whose branches swaying in the wind Wave goodbye to receding Summer days With red and yellow handkerchiefs, will find Their shadows sharper now that there's no haze. This sky, a deeper shade of blue, refined By cold that sprinkles hoar-frost on the lawns And brings the colour to the leaves, will find A naked splendour in its chilly dawns. This heart, which Spring and Summer hopes could blind Till now, when at the waning of the year It's forced to see things as they are, will find A vision cool as Autumn and as clear. |
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