Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
Under The Harvest Moon
Carl Sandburg
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Poem topics: I love you, death, friend, moon, red, silver, summer, wild, garden, soft, crimson, beautiful, love, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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