Autumn Loneliness
One gray cricket is fluting,
One only,
In the brown November field:
Clear little lonely voice,
You are like the voice in the heart
When age has come,
And the Belovéd has gone forever.
One only,
In the brown November field:
Clear little lonely voice,
You are like the voice in the heart
When age has come,
And the Belovéd has gone forever.
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