Unhappiness Poem by Charles Hanson Towne
Unhappiness
High on the hills, the miser, Autumn sits,
Hoarding his wondrous wealth of treasured gold;
Yet in the night I hear his grieving voice
In every wind that sweeps across the wold.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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5/2/2024 5:24:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
