“This is an autumn when they come no more.
Beech leaves yellow and fall, the beech-mast rots
Uneaten. Infertile now the beech
Hollows its heart, begetting naught.
There is frost on the grandson's eyes,
And only rumor upon the skies…”

—  Donald Davidson

The Horde

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Donald Davidson15
American poet, essayist, critic and author 1893–1968

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