Oh! I am still,
Beholding the winter chill.
Across the panneled walls,
Polished chairs and golden grill.
As of you,
Feeling the breeze and dew.
A silent hope, silent tear,
Tired as pale rider, in brew.
Then a verity,
Covert in reality of austerity,
No dignity in rows of adversity.
So, unaware of belief and reality.
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