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The Rowan's red is deepening
And Goldenrod
is high with yellow froth
Wormwood silver
shimmers by the ditch
Swallows flying low
along the road
Wheeling through
The milk-rich pasture
The southern wind is stronger
And the sky is heavy
It may rain
But there's joy
In my heart
And a gentle greeting
From the silver Heron rising
From the tinkling stream

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