Early one October morning,
Before my usual waking time,
Though diffuse through hard-closed drapery
The daylight differs – I look and see;
Rows of rooftops grey and hazy,
Behind them treetops almost vanished,
Islands in a misty sea,
And so the thought that there might be
One more late day of hidden summer,
Evaporates as does the fog,
Beneath autumnal rays of sunshine,
Boiled away in a few short minutes,
While I sit and muse and drink my tea.
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