Years, many parti-colour'd years,
Some have crept on, and some have flown
Since first before me fell those tears
I never could see fall alone.

Years, not so many, are to come,
Years not so varied, when from you
One more will fall: when, carried home,
I see it not, nor hear Adieu.

I love to share but I also have responsibilities. And for those who would like to crop the above, here you go. Stay frosty. Donate. Mando//