The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the winter's snow.
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