The gloomy bell is tolling,
Slowly, slowly, slowly.
Its sonorous notes resounding,
Reverberating across the countryside.
For whom is the bell sounding?
Is it for someone well known?
Famous?
Oh no! It is the death knell of Summer
Whose beauty is now becoming threadbare,
Limp and tawdry
With the approach of winter!
Would that we could halt relentless time
And keep Queen Summer beautifully bedecked
In all her finery.
But she must yield to the icy spectre of Winter
Until she wakes once more in spring,
And dons her fresh, bright colours once more,
To delight us yet again
With flowers and rustling leaves,
And scintillating sunshine.

Youth Is A State Of The Soul -
Nothing To Do With Age, But Everything To Do With Attitude.
http://personal.nbnet.nb.ca/steldon/

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