Monday, September 27, 2010

Autumn by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown; 
The berry's cheek is plumper, 
The rose is out of town. 

The maple wears a gayer scarf, 
The field a scarlet gown. 
Lest I should be old-fashioned, 
I'll put a trinket on.

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