Authors: 260
Books: 2,712
Poems & Short Stories: 3,817
Forum Members: 50,380
Forum Posts: 577,669
AH, from the niggard tree of Time
How quickly fall the hours!
It needs no touch of wind or rime
To loose such facile flowers.
Drift of the dead year's harvesting,
They clog to-morrow's way,
Yet serve to shelter growths of spring
Beneath their warm decay,
Or, blent by pious hands with rare
Sweet savours of content,
Surprise the soul's December air
With June's forgotten scent.
Buying from Amazon.com? Check out the Amazon Coupons first so you get the best deal.