Beautifully dies the year. Silence sleeps upon the mere: Yellow leaves float on it, stilly As, in June, the opened lily. Brushing o`er the frosty grass I watch a moment, ere I pass, From beeches that will soon be bare Down the still November air The lovely ways of gliding leaves. Perhaps they budded on Spring eves When we two walked and talked together! Autumn thoughts for Autumn weather! I wish some days that I remember Could glide from me, this fair November.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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