Alley of Leaves

O the leaves are children in a circle dancing
On a helter-skelter, late September breeze
And round they go, imagining, and round they go,
Are gathered into fountained into life
And tossed cartwheeling through a daydreamed Spring.
Their wind-tickled skipping over pavements,
Their fiery colours giggling in the eye,
Are blown against the wall and piled dead
Like golden coins a miser dare not spend.

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