Last of the Day Lilies
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not but sit
Beneath my shady roof, there thou may'st rest,
And tune my jolly voice to my fresh pipe;
And all the daughters of the year shall dance,
Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.
William Blake To Autumn
Enjoy your week end.
As always, thanks for stopping by............*s*