Yea, ‘tis the Autumn of My Soul
The Time before of feeling awld
When misty sunsets, they do set
Before thine eyes a settlin’ wet
Skies unfold to me the waiting dawn
A sunset new, makes for forlorn
Shews of views that mine will ne’er behold
That auld Time again
The grain is set
Among the swallows heading to West
They do foresee
Another Time
Aside from Thee
When the East, thou do behest
‘To the West’ by Z.R. Grates (1820)
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