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I saw a bride splendid in white garmentsI saw a woman with one hundred children The children plump and firm within her arms,But some fell down or strangers took and ate them
From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
Frost spins white lines
on the lawn,
grass turns glass-like,
I found an autumn necklace in the hedge,
silken threads, strung with tiny beads.
Yet when I touched a strand it fell,
leaving only scattered tears.
Aren’t you cold and won’t you freeze,With branches bare, you winter trees?You’ve thrown away your summer shift,Your autumn gold has come adrift.