My heart is a garden tired with autumn, 
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, 
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, 
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; 

Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, 
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain -- 
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten -- 
After the stillness, will spring come again?

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