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I steal across the sodden floor
And dead leaves blow about,
Where once we planned an iron door
To shut the whole world out;


I find the hearth, its fires unlit,
Its ashes cold--Tonight
Only the stars give warmth to it,
Only the moon gives light.


And yonder on our spacious bed
Fashioned for love and sleep
The Autumn goldenrod lies dead,
The maple-leaves lie deep.