The Fall of Gloucester
Auburn maple leaves fall down
Swept from beach by briny waves
Or else be blown from the sand
And drift back to the dirt
And brisk winds walk them on the pavement
Stinging breezes whip around
And Steal the heat from our cheeks
But loan them rosy color
And soon the world descends to white
Already vibrant summer dies
And we are not in vivid color
But that changes with the tide
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