Pictures in Rhyme/Why?

For works with similar titles, see Why?.
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WHY?

East winds, allying
With autumn austere,
Drive beauty, dying,
Into the mere.

Under the shrill blasts
Chilling the warm blood,
A woman with wrinkles,
Back-bent and doubled,
Is gathering firewood,
Her limbs palsy-troubled.

Woman with wrinkles,
Why art thou here,
And beauty lying
Drowned in the mere?

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