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You carelessly dance among daises, Which makes me smile. But I just watch and warn Of winter all-the-while. I'm warmed by the sight: The red-gold light sliding through your swinging hair; If I were time and asked to move-- Oh, I wouldn't dare. But time is its own lover, And so comes the cold; Marching in the grey To lay to rest the gold. And so sinks your heart, While I remind of times to come-- But within there is but a wish That I had danced in the sun... |