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In the Harbor, poem(s) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Autumn Within

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Autumn Within

 

It is autumn; not without,
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.

Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
Comes no murmur from the mill.

 

 


Content of Autumn Within [Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem collection: In the Harbor]



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Table of content of In the Harbor


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