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Won't you help support DayPoems? AutumnBy David MacDonald RossBorn 1865When, with low moanings on the distant shore, Like vain regrets, the ocean-tide is rolled: When, thro' bare boughs, the tale of death is told By breezes sighing, "Summer days are o'er"; When all the days we loved -- the days of yore -- Lie in their vaults, dead Kings who ruled of old -- Unrobed and sceptreless, uncrowned with gold, Conquered, and to be crowned, ah! never more. If o'er the bare fields, cold and whitening With the first snow-flakes, I should see thy form, And meet and kiss thee, that were enough of Spring; Enough of sunshine, could I feel the warm Glad beating of thy heart 'neath Winter's wing, Tho' Earth were full of whirlwind and of storm. DayPoems Poem No. 964 Comment on DayPoems? If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback. Won't you help support DayPoems? Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web . . . Copyright The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2006 by Timothy Keith Bovee. All rights reserved. The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The editor of DayPoems will gladly attempt to assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. |
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