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Afterglow

Back home again, I strolled the fields
Where I once roamed, in childhood days,
When bush and flowers, even weeds
Spelled beauty, in the sun's first rays.

But now the pampas grass is thin;
The wild rose has grown subtly old;
Bush-clover nods unsteady head
As over earth steals stealthy cold.

Long gone the gentian, goldenrod,
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