AUTUMN CHANT
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ow the autumn shuddersIn the rose’s root.Far and wide the laddersLean among the fruit. Now the autumn clambersUp the trellised frame,And the rose remembersThe dust from which it came. Brighter than the blossomOn the rose’s boughSits the wizened, orange,Bitter berry now; Beauty never slumbers;All is in her name;But the rose remembers
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