For Want of Interest, the Robot Contemplates Life and Death (from Ichor)

For ev’ry sun receded from the sky
There grows another lunatic to spy
And O, there springs an apple of mine eye
As sweet as autumn lingers in a pie.
But lo, the moon, she wanders down to dawn
And fades her silver bones beneath the lawn
And winter takes what summer makes:
A bed of blindness yielded with a yawn.

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