A Visit
Westward the field of the cloth of gold.
It is fall — see the gold in the dust of the fields.
Lay the golden cloth upon me. It is night and I come through the streets to your window.
The dust and the words are all gone, brushed away. Let me sleep,
It is fall — see the gold in the dust of the fields.
Lay the golden cloth upon me. It is night and I come through the streets to your window.
The dust and the words are all gone, brushed away. Let me sleep,
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