Anniversary

See, Love, a year is pass'd: in harvest our summer endeth: Praising thee the solemn festival I celebrate. Unto us all our days are love's anniversaries, each one In turn hath ripen'd something of our happiness. So, lest heart-contented adown life easily floating, We note not the passage while living in the delight, I have honour'd always the attentive vigil of Autumn, And thy day set apart holy to fair Memory.

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