All 'round the dreadful, eerie place
Death has shown his ugly face.
All the leaves fall from the sky;
Soon they'll wither and they'll die.
But, thankfully, it is not done;
Still shines the splendid, golden sun;
The leaves now fly in squadrons gold,
Because the wind is strong and cold;
And although winter soon will call;
Still bask we in the wondrous fall.
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