The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
~Emily Dickinson~
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1 comment:
What loverly red! We don't see much red here, outside of the redwing blackbirds in the spring--but OH! the songs they sing!!
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