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O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather, When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And golden-rod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant; When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning; When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining. O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather. |