OCTOBER

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O sweetest month, that pourest from full hands
The golden bounty of rich harvest lands!
O saddest month, that bearest with thy breath
The crimson leaves to drifts of glowing death!
In fields and lives, the fall of withered leaves
Darkens the glorious season of ripe sheaves,
For Life’s fruition comes with loss and pain,
And Death alone can bring the richest gain.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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