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My sorrow when shes 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.
- Robert Frost -
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The rain to the wind said
You push and Ill pelt.
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt
And lay lodgedthough not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
- Robert Frost -