Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,The sunset hangs on a cloud;A golden storm of glittering sheaves,Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,The wild wind blows in a cloud. Hark to a voice that is callingTo my heart in the voice of the wind:My heart is weary and sad and alone,For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,And why should I stay behind? Sarojini Naidu (India 1879 – 1949 ) ...
Autumn Song
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