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Across our view no bounds clear Autumn throws.
Yet mass├ęd shades along the distance rise.
Yon waters take pure colors from the skies.
O'er yon lone town the veiling mist wave flows.


The few last leaves the breezes bear away.
Yon hills though far, behind them sets the sun.
Ah! why is not, lone Crane, thy journey done
When all the Woods with dizzy cawings sway?