Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson,Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green.Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealingWith the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
William Cullen Bryant
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To him who, in the love of Nature, holdsCommunion with her visible forms, she speaksA various language.
- William Cullen Bryant -
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The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;All through her silent watches, gliding slow,Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
- William Cullen Bryant -