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Going-to-the-stars
Lindsay, Vachel (1879-1931)
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Going-to-the-stars
63
THE FOUR SEASONS
I saw my muse go walking,
Her path was day and night!
The rake of Autumn in her hand:
Her hair was Winter-white.
But she was clothed in Springtime
She bore a fairy fan—
The wind of Love and Summer—
That comes to every man.
Going-to-the-stars