September rain


This rose for all the world for you

These tears for all the dead,

Those empty words of morningtide,

This ever-present dread.

Those cloying smells of perfume

On the dresses of the rich,

This workman stumbling homeward

His body in a ditch.

September’s moon still shining

On this old planet’s doom,

Her wind and tide conspiring;

A chill invades the room.


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