The Mountain Ash
The mountain ash is red today
against the fir green hill
The berries on the naked bough
are hanging low and still
The sparrows have all gone away
and alder leaves are down
The brooks run dark and lonely now
and brackens withered brown
Come climb the hill this autumn day
to search for tarnished gold
That will reflect in memory
when you and I are old
Life never gives us long enough
to do the things we love
So let us gently thread the path
with mountain ash above
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