Deep in the meadow grass I dwell
and watch the geese taxing by,
and hear the swallow' chirping jingling high.
I chew the bitterness of losing a friend,
I inhale and exhale the clover blossom perfume,
While I unwind with thoughts of Victorian sigh,
Pleasant to be alone in isolated site,
as I touch leaves of aspen trees under which I hide.
Thus on this golden autumn morning,
with some close sentiments of mourning,
I've spent my talents five,
Scoping strength to honor those staying dive.