Go from me love, our summer has ended, leave and linger not:
I am no longer your summer friend or lover but, wintry blizzard cold,
You silly sheep, once a flower, you fool fat cow benighted from the fold,
You have been worse than a sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot.
Take this counsel as severe it is, sever your plot from my lot,
Dwell in your pleasant places, and false dreams hoard your alchemist gold;
Lest you with me should continue to shiver on our faulty bleak wold,
Being thirsty and hungering on our barren spot.
For I have hedged me from you with a thorny hedge,
I rather live alone, I look forward to die alone:
Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge,
Ghosts of our buried years, and friendship reminisces of youth come back,
My heart saddens, it goes sighing after the free swallows flown
For every summer gone never comes back; summer's unreturning track
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