The autumn months are my domain:<br>Mirrored in pools my castles dream<br>Of wars long past and out of mind<br>From towers with ivy garlands twined<br>Weak and with regret the sun<br>Drowns itself in the sluggish green<br>Water that marble fountains weep;<br>Trees open their nests to the wings of sleep.<br>The wind like a phantom seems to roar$$$<br>Returned to die of love once more<br>At the false meeting of the ways<br>Where a temple rounds its dome in the haze.<br>Sometimes a child is heard to laugh<br>In the house of the priest$$$ far off;<br>His lamp on the ledge of the window gleams<br>Much as the Holy Spirit flames.<br>Then nothing. Only a plane tree sways<br>Its crown of leaves in the dark that graze<br>Slowly and with a sound so alight<br>They barely ripple the silent night.<br>I am the lord of this domain.<br>Through halls of hollow$$$ echoing<br>Armor$$$ I haul the heavy shame<br>Of not being able to be king.
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