<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341337" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>As Dies The Year</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Old Year knocks at the farmhouse door.<br>October, come with your matron gaze,<br>From the fruit you are storing for winter days,<br>And prop him up on the granary floor,<br>Where the straw lies threshed and the corn stands heaped:<br>Let him eat of the bread he reaped;<br>He is feeble and faint, and can work no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weaker he waneth, and weaker yet.<br>November, shower your harvest down,<br>Chestnut, and mast, and acorn brown;<br>For you he laboured, so pay the debt.<br>Make him a pallet-he cannot speak-<br>And a pillow of moss for his pale pinched cheek,<br>With your golden leaves for coverlet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is numb to touch, he is deaf to call.<br>December, hither with muffled tread,<br>And gaze on the Year, for the Year is dead,<br>And over him cast a wan white pall.<br>Take down the mattock, and ply the spade.<br>And deep in the clay let his clay be laid,<br>And snowflakes fall at his funeral.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus may I die, since it must be,<br>My wage well earned and my work-days done,<br>And the seasons following one by one<br>To the slow sweet end that the wise foresee;<br>Fed from the store of my ripened sheaves,<br>Laid to rest on my fallen leaves,<br>And with snow-white souls to weep for me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341337" data-title="As Dies The Year de Alfred Austin" data-description="The Old Year knocks at the farmhouse door. October, come with your matron gaze, From the fruit you are storing for winter days, And prop him up on the granary floor, Where the straw lies threshed and the corn stands heaped: Let him eat of the brea..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black