Snows Will Not Come

Snows will not come not come that easy but winter cold already beginning be though be just September. For after all how many days separate us from December? Christmas New Year's Eve and then the fateful New Year? There will be many rains in between and many storms and many tempests and my eyes will so to weep and be dry. My sides be dry Not with summer heat of Parchedness: But with the hunger Born of wintry dread But wait: Autumn still has To deepen Nay to come. But then time passes As sands that glide Through fingers. As in time-glasses. Time be swift and With it age As time with motion Goes Motion be swift, so Time, so age So the fleeting days And slipping sand. The cold chill many a time will cut my face, the fields be soaked with waters, the leaves fall, and sere bend the olden trees fear will raise its head in the last year's few days: few? Over a hundred days and more. Wrath, despair lie in store. And the cold chill many a time will cut my face.