The trees begin to wilt and fade;

Another year is on the fall.

Though autumn can defy the odds,

The winter’s cold is bound to call.

The daytime’s relegated role

Is limited to minor parts;

Discarded leaves drift down to earth

In patterns of the purest arts.

In nights replete with cloudless chill,

We shiver at the crisp-cut moon;

The powdered snow beneath our ...

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