trumpets that echo vainly in the grey
chilly slow moving winter afternoon
call to us hiding each in our cocoon
we want to turn from all the good they say
claim that the messenger's another loon
trumpets that echo vainly in the grey
do not inform us of a better day
that is our import we see no true boon
in their loud signal they have come too soon
trumpets that echo vainly in the grey
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