“O'er hill and field October's glories fade; O'er hill and field the blackbirds southward fly; The brown leaves rustle down the forest glade, Where naked branches make a fitful shade, And the lost blooms of Autumn withered lie.” LyingLostFieldsGloryForestsNakedHillsBranchesBrownAutumnShadeFadesOctoberWitheredBlackbirdsWithered Leaves Author:George Arnold
“But leave me to my beer! Gold is dross, love is loss, so if I gulp my sorrows down, or see them drown in foamy draughts of old nut-brown, then I do wear the crown, without the cross!” IfsLossLove IsSorrowCrossesGoldBeerBrownNutsCrownsLeaving MeDraughtDross Author:George Arnold
