Seasons do pour in a single span,
In mingled threads, then tapestries, then looms,
‘Twixt terror and the sense of an eternal plan,
Where, truly, I believe it shall ne’er meet doom.
Tetrameter Thirty-one
By
By
Seasons do pour in a single span,
In mingled threads, then tapestries, then looms,
‘Twixt terror and the sense of an eternal plan,
Where, truly, I believe it shall ne’er meet doom.
mvrcodelrio.com 
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