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PASTORAL DAYS. 



in noisy triumph, that howls and tears among the trembling trees, and 

 smothers out the last smouldering flame of faded Autumn. 



The final leaf is torn from the tree. The lingering birds depart the 

 desolation for scenes more tranquil, and I too with them, for nothing 

 here invites my tarrying. The Autumn days are gone, grim Winter is 

 at our door, and the covering snow will soon enshroud the earth, sub- 

 dued and silent in its winter sleep. 



&¥* 



