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Late Autumn

Rating: 2.9

October - and the skies are cool and gray
O'er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf,
Bare meadow, and the slowly falling leaf.
The dignity of woods in rich decay
Accords full well with this majestic grief
That clothes our solemn purple hills to-day,
Whose afternoon is hush'd, and wintry brief
Only a robin sings from any spray.

And night sends up her pale cold moon, and spills

White mist around the hollows of the hills,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 11 December 2015

Probably one of the best poems about autumn that I have ever read

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