something autumn native blood— Touch manner, hint mood; heart like a r — Bliss Carman

Norway Timelapse
PlayPlay

previous arrow
next arrow
Norway Timelapse
Budapest Timelapse
Iceland Timelapse
Berlin Timelapse
London Timelapse
previous arrow
next arrow

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood— Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

Bliss Carman

Related Authors: Bliss Carman

Related Topics: autumn, fall, poetry, seasonal

Topics:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *