LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, â??Come and play with me!â? ...
Browning, old fellow,
Your leaves grow yellow,
Beginning to mellow
As seasons pass.
Your cover is wrinkled,
And stained and sprinkled,
And warped and crinkled
From sleep on the grass.
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