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The summer is over,
The autumn is past,
Dark clouds o'er us heven,
Loud whistles the blast;
But clouds cannot darken, nor tempest destroy
The soul's sweetest sunshine, the heart's purest joy.

The Bright fire is flinging
Its happy warmth round:
The kettle too singing,
And blithe is its sound:
Then welcome in evening, and shut out the day,
And with it its soul-fretting troubles away.

Our path is no bright one,
From morning till eve;
Our task is no light one,
Till day takes its leave:
But now let us cheerfully pause on our way,
And be thankfully cheerful, and blamelessly gay.

We'll turn to the pages
Of history's lore;
Of bards and of sages
The beauties explore:
And share o'er the records we love to unroll
The " feast of the reason and flow of the soul. "

To you who have often,
In life's later years,
Brought kindness to soften
Its cares and its fears;
To you, with true feeling, your Poet and Friend,
The joys you have heighten'd may fondly commend.
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