The Lilt of the Year

by Hazel Dell Crandall A melancholy mantle rests Upon the land, the sea. The wind in tristful cadence moans A mournful threnody. There flits no gleeful insect, No blithesome bee nor bird; Over all the vast of Nature No joyful sound is heard. In garments sere and somber Each vine and tree is clad: It’s…

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