The Last

it is addressed thusly:
A vision.
it reads:
As the fading mist of high autumn's rains
Leaves fog in lowland woods and plains
And the bareness of all but the oak
And foreign cedar removes the cloak
Of the year, which becomes a retiring crone
Rolling up his garments to go rest alone
But we, gathering fuel and drawing in
Gather free, we still-free men
Into our homes, to remember clan
And family, and kind if we still can
And see with gimlet eye the fading day
The last, before the cold belay
With its grip each limb and so withdraw
Into our own and by our law
Of conservation of energy
Action, reaction, but across the lea
Is heard a crack - A rumble there
Was it the train, was it moving where
Came the sound? But we all just wait
And watch to see if it is running late
And the watch ticks long, as if to strain
The last fading mist of high autumn rain.

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