Aristus
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Sun Nov-30-08 01:54 AM
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I think of the gods of eons, And bend my head to pray; Centuries gone in an instant Here at the ebbing of day
The winds, they whisper familiar Poems of sweet repose, The leaves in the trees are sighing As this weary age draws to a close
Families pine in their memories Days that were carelessly spent As noontime glides into darkness, They murmur, and wail, and repent
Of softness and cool in the twilight, A bird sets its nestlings to right; And sings of a future in Springtime, And the rains will fall calmly all night
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