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OCTOBER.
She stands upon the silent hills,
A tender sorrow in her eyes,
As one whose heart at parting thrills
With summer's sunniest memories;
While, waking from her tearful gloom,
With cheeks on fire and eyes aflame,
All nature blushes into bloom
At sound of her beloved name.

The wild woods weave their brightest spells
To gem the splendor of her hair;
The wild winds swing their sweetest bells
And die with all their music there;
The banners of her pride unfurled
Float on the breezes faintly sweet,
And empress of a conquered world,
She sees its trophies at her feet.

Back to the world she woos the light
That died as summer's smile expires,