Friday, September 3, 2010
This is the voice of September’s dawn
Weeping its memories across the lawn
Torrents of sweet melancholy
Laugh upon this faded sea
Who can touch the stars above?
And who can force a heart to love?
This is the song on the wavering breeze
Torn between summer and beckoning leaves
Whispers of passion and lovers’ tears
Tuning the sorrow of a hundred years
Who can change one leaf to red?
Or who can make a heart forget?
This is the plea in the dying sun
Knowing indeed that summer is done
Taming the heart of vagrant youth
Weaving a shroud of silent truth
Who can make an old man young?
Or find the tombs where Time has gone?
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