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Poem by Katharine Tynan
THE Autumn leaves are dying quietly, Scarlet and orange, underfoot they lie; They had their youth and prime And now's the dying time; Alas, alas, the young, the beloved, must die! They are dying like the leaves of Autumn fast, Scattered and broken, blown on every blast: The darling young, the brave, Love had no power to save. Poor Love-lies-bleeding, Love's in ruins, downcast. Alas, alas, the Autumn leaves are flying! They had their Summer and 'tis time for dying. But these had barely Spring. Love trails a broken wing, Walks through deserted woods, moaning and sighing.
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