Adam’s Blog

The leaves they were crisped and sere - 
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year:
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir - 
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.