Текст оригинала на английском языке
THESE autumn gardens, russet, gray and brown, The sward with shrivelled foliage strown, The shrubs and trees By weary wings of sunshine overflown And timid silences,-- Since first you, darling, called my spirit yours, Seem happy, and the gladness pours From day to day, And yester-year across this year endures Unto next year away. Now in these places where I used to rove And give the dropping leaves my love And weep to them, They seem to fall divinely from above, Like to a diadem Closing in one with the disheartened flowers. High up the migrant birds in showers Shine in the sky, And all the movement of the natural hours Turns into melody.
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