Under the Harvest
Moon
by Carl Sandburg
Under the harvest
moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray
mocker,
Comes and whispers to
you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant
crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red
leaves,
Love, with little
hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand
memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable
questions.
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