Thou, eternal home of shotful humans
So a harmful life may dip, but thou must
To such a situation, protect wanes
And the moon will fast a slow but so trust ...
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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