Fall, leaves, fall. De Emily Brontë.

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Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen nigh and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom were the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night’s decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

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