by Elizabeth Ellen Long
These are the days of fallen leaves,
The days of hazy weather,
Smelling of chrysanthemums
And gray wood-smoke together.
These are the nights of nearby stars,
the nights of closer moons,
When the windy darkness echoes
To cricket's farewell tunes.
These are the days of fallen leaves,
The days of hazy weather,
Smelling of chrysanthemums
And gray wood-smoke together.
These are the nights of nearby stars,
the nights of closer moons,
When the windy darkness echoes
To cricket's farewell tunes.
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