The last cold lilies cringed
Before this challenge hinted;
Our raptures have repented,
Death has been avenged.
Now beauty stern as time
Usurps her rival beauty,
Effulgent, wild. No pity
Is scattered with her rime
Upon the earth’s frail tide,
Inexorably sealing
Autumn’s distilling
Of the summer’s bright pride.
Bend before this chaste
Power, stark and subtle,
Now passion is effaced
And pride is futile.
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