Shyly the silver- hatted mushrooms make Soft entrance through, And undelivered lovers, half awake, Hear noises in the dew. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> Yellow in all the earth and in the skies, The world would seem Faint as a widow mourning with soft eyes And falling into dream. Up the long hill I see the slow plough leave Furrows of brown; Dim is the day and beautiful; I grieve To see the sun go down. But there are suns a many for mine eyes Day after day: Delightsome in grave greenery they rise, Red oranges in May. |
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