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Scott
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Tree
This tree looked like a prize-fighter cartoon face to me.
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Fall, leaves, fall

By Emily Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall;
die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.