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November 31st
I went to bed in autumn…
The rime was on the grass,
And sun on river’s bottom;
How beautiful it was!
The fog was lying low
Beneath the morning chill
And pigeons in a row
On wires standing still.
Bewitchingly amazing…
And I could only dream
That autumn’s dying blazing
Would change to summer beam.
But morning slammed my door
With snow of perfect cinder.
My dream was on the floor…
…And I woke up in winter.
