quarta-feira, setembro 17, 2008

The Falling of the Leaves

Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley shaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.

The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.

Collected Poems, W. B. Yeats

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