The World’s End


Please don’t end the world in autumn, Lord

When bronze, and pink, and mingled gold

A feast for eye and senses

Remind us of your glory

Laying waste to our defences


Leave us the crisp, acerbic scents

That chill, and thrill and huddle round

And cause us to remember

That through the Earth’s diurnal dance

You hold the smouldering ember


And dormant through the winter’s death

When man, and beast, and golden leaf

The joys of God’s Creation

In silent awed expectancy

Await the Last Cessation


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