Seasonal advice, wit, and wisdom from your editors |
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A touch of cold in the Autumn night— I walked abroad, And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge Like a red-faced farmer. I did not stop to speak, but nodded, And round about were the wistful stars With white faces like town children. –T.E. Hulme (1883–1917) |
| THE OLD FARMER SELECTED THESE PRODUCTS FOR YOU |
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