DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

Autumn

 

A touch of cold in the Autumn night—
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.

 

-T.E. Hulme

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.