Soon cold shadows will close over us/ and summer's transitory gold be gone;/ I hear them chopping firewood in our court-/ the dreary thud of logs on cobblestone./Winter will come to repossess my soul/ with rage and outrage, horror, drudgery/ and like the sun in its polar holocaust/ my heart will be a block of blood-red ice./I listen trembling to that grim tattoo-/ build a gallows, it would sound the same./ My mind becomes a tower giving way/ under the impact of a battering-ram./Stunned by the strokes, I seem to hear, somewhere,/ a coffin hurriedly hammered shut- for whom?/ Summer was yesterday; autumn is here!/ Strange how that sound rings out like a farewell./ C.B. You should create your own MySpace Layouts like me by using nUCLEArcENTURy .COM's MySpace Profile Editor !
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