A SONG OF SEASONS
THE AUTUMN WIND
Autumn hath call'd to me;
In the first bright night her lover she calls,
And I fly, I fly, and the first leaf falls
From a toss'd and broken tree.
Yea, Autumn, thou calledst, and I am here;
Hark to my answer that ringeth clear
As I cry through the night's long halls.
In the first bright night her lover she calls,
And I fly, I fly, and the first leaf falls
From a toss'd and broken tree.
Yea, Autumn, thou calledst, and I am here;
Hark to my answer that ringeth clear
As I cry through the night's long halls.
WINTER'S WIND
I have set my icy breath
To blow in the trumpet that winter doth hold;
The sun hath hidden his cheering gold
At the blast that calls for death.
I have set my foot on the stiffen'd ground;
Death answers my call with a rattling sound:
He hath answer'd my calls of old.
To blow in the trumpet that winter doth hold;
The sun hath hidden his cheering gold
At the blast that calls for death.
I have set my foot on the stiffen'd ground;
Death answers my call with a rattling sound:
He hath answer'd my calls of old.
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