Autumn Nights

‘Today, today, in this, a foul Autumn,
I stroke not the soft and kindly leaves
But those, damned prickled pines and pin.
Were it tomorrow, whence thee fall,
Snows and frost, then I would welcome,
But tomorrow is so far, so far away
That there, between, a dream may linger.
Wallowing and oozing in the dark,
Cowardice thoughts which we scarce think,
No! Now is not that sweet or bliss,
Now is not tomorrow, but today and
Long Autumnal nights.’ – Kester Rose.

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