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SONGS OF FAREWELL.
Will rise through the long sunny day
Above the flowery lea;
The deep and dreamy woods will own the slumbrous spell she weaves,
And send a greeting, mixed with sighs, through all their quivering leaves.
Oh, precious are her glowing gifts! and plenteous is she,
She bringeth all the lovely things that bright and fragrant be;
She scatters fulness' on the Earth with lavish hand and free,
But not for me, my friends,
But not for me!

Autumn will come again, dear friends,
His spirit-touch will be
With gold upon the harvest-field,
With crimson on the tree;
He passeth o'er the silent woods, they wither at his breath,
Slow fading in a still decay, a change that is not Death.
Oh! rich, and liberal, and wise, and provident is he!
He taketh to his Garner-house the things that ripened be;
He gathereth his store from Earth, all silently—
And he will gather me, my friends,
He will gather me!