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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Autumn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,<br>And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.<br>I already hear the dead thuds of logs below<br>Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">All of winter will return to me:<br>derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,<br>And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,<br>My soul will harden into a block of red ice.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I shiver as I listen to each log crash and slam:<br>The echoes are as dull as executioners' drums.<br>My mind is like a tower that slowly succumbs<br>To the blows of a relentless battering ram.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It seems to me, swaying to these shocks, that someone<br>Is nailing down a coffin in a hurry somewhere.<br>For whom? -- It was summer yesterday; now it's autumn.<br>Echoes of departure keep resounding in the air.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Baudelaire">Charles Baudelaire</a></strong></div>

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