No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. >>
And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my o >>
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and >>
The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden o >>
O suns and skies and clouds of June, and flowers of June together. Ye >>
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn r >>
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.