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            Autumn and Winter,
            Summer and Spring - 
    Hath Time no other song to sing?
    Weary we grow of the changeless tune - 
            June - December,
            December - June!

    Time, like a bird, hath but one song,
        One way to build, like a bird hath he;
    Thus hath he built so long, so long
        Thus hath he sung, Ah me!

    Time, like a spider, knows, be sure,
        Only one wile, though he seem so wise:
    Death is his web, and Love his lure,
        And you and I his flies.


                "Love!" he sings
            In the morning clear,
                "Love! Love! Love!" --
            And you never hear
            How under his breath,
            He whispers, "Death!
            Death! Death!"

    Yet Time - 'tis the strangest thing of all - 
        Knoweth not the sense of the words he saith;
    Eternity taught him his parrot-call
        Of "Love and Death."
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    Year after year doth the old man climb
        The mountainous knees of Eternity,
    But Eternity telleth nothing to Time - 
        It may not be!

Richard Le Gallienne