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LEAVES
At night when she doth rest
From all her laughing hours,
And plays in dreamy vales
With everlasting flowers.
I hear the withered leaves
Beat loud upon the pane,
"Save us," they screaming cry—
"We shall not live again!"
What grief within my breast
Beats to the tapping call?
Deep in my heart I hear
The rustling of their fall.
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