  Shall I come again? Again to see the reeds, Yellowing now? “Bye and bye! Bye and bye!” Lake rushes cry. Shall I come again To these willow leaves Falling now? Their joy was brief! The willow leaf Knows grief. Shall I breathe again Gray balsam dripping amber On the mould? What knows the year Of any fear,— Of any amber tear! September 27, 1920. |
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