Around and around, all has nearly turned full circle.
The warm lazy days of sunshine and brown rivers winding through the meadows are a tale of yesterday
The pilgrim sighs and draws his mantle close about him in the smoky evening
He watches the leaves wither and fall
Frost has rimmed the pools with ice and hung diamonds in the spider’s web
For this is the turning of the year, the final scene before the curtain falls
And now beside the road there stands the pilgrim of the year to be