Classic poem of the day
God flings the golden days like coins
Out of his spendthrift hands;
They lie up-piled by centuries
O'er all the lavish lands.
Old miser Time hoards them away,
Cunning and carefully;
Perhaps he hopes at last to own
All of Eternity.
Member poem of the day
Springing, seeping,
Waters flow.
Lithely, floating,
Autumn glow.
Waxing, moaning,
Harvest sky.
Closing eyes,
Sorrowful cry.
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