Then cricket sing thy song, or answer mine
Thine whispers blame, but mine has naught but praises
It matters not. - Behold the autumn goes,
The Shadow grows,
The moments take hold of eternity;
Even while we stop to wrangle or repine
Our lives are gone
Like thinnest mist,
Like yon escaping colour in the tree: -
Rejoice! rejoice! whilst yet the hours exist
Rejoice or mourn, and let the world swing on
Unmoved by Cricket-song of thee or me. (Frederick Goddard Tuckerman)

Then cricket sing thy song, or answer mine Thine whispers blame, but mine has naught but praises It matters not. - Behold the autumn goes, The Shadow grows, The moments take hold of eternity; Even while we stop to wrangle or repine Our lives are gone Like thinnest mist, Like yon escaping colour in the tree: - Rejoice! rejoice! whilst yet the hours exist Rejoice or mourn, and let the world swing on Unmoved by Cricket-song of thee or me.

Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

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answer autumn blame colour cricket escaping eternity hold hours lives mine mist mourn naught rejoice repine shadow sing song stop swing take thee thin tree while world wrangle yet

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