Lo! Autumn's come—wheres now the woodlands green?
The charming Landscape? & the flowrey plain?
All all are fled & left this motly scene
Of fading yellow tingh'd with russet stain
Tho these seem desolatley wild and drear
Yet these are spring to what we still shall find
Yon trees must all in nakednes appear
'Reft of their folige by the blustry wind
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