Of turnips, caterpillars and kings:

Fall The oak leaf doth tremble. The oak leaf doeth tremble in the whisp'rings, in the whisprings, of the night to come. The willow's tears lie scatter'd by aimless draughts. The laurel stands bare pluck'd by black carrion. The locust lies fallow - untouch'd by man. The yew sleeps wounded by silence.... Sign in to see full entry.