A smiling moon is a hearts desire ,
But eclipses are what make it worth ,
O forlorn night why do you despair?
Your deepest sorrow is your prettiest attire. ...
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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