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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." [[end page]] [[start page]] 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