Autumn
High from the sides of the mountain The leaves in riot dance down,Tossed in the arms of the fitful winds, Or falling silent, alone,
Down to the shores of the river They whirl in rapturous glee,Skipping the sands to the water's edge, And floating on to the sea.
Winter
The winter winds break harshly from their sleep, And thunderous sounds the music of the sea;The mighty anthem of the foaming deep Storms proudly on through earth's eternity.
Will love and beauty, fleeting, too pass on? Will life but mean that all must die in vain?Will hope rise gladly with the silvered dawn? Is winter not the promise of a spring?
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