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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...