My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
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oh this one put a smile on my face..only a true nature love could have written this one..a pleasure to read..fabulous.. :)
Amusing poem.............. Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so, And they are better for her praise