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A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, , at sacred-texts.com
The waters from the pool are vanishing;
A mellow sunlight steeps the window-panes,
And autumn winds ply many a pleasant fan.
O gold and green, half-ripe, the acacias glow,
While o’er the threshold of his summer falls
The shadow of a solitary man.