Autumn
Believe me — when I say
That love like yours, at this belated hour,
Overwhelms me, —
Stills the fount of thought!
I move as one new-born —
And strange to swift transitions
As from my prison door
I gaze
Into a blinding sunlight!
That love like yours, at this belated hour,
Overwhelms me, —
Stills the fount of thought!
I move as one new-born —
And strange to swift transitions
As from my prison door
I gaze
Into a blinding sunlight!
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