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But see the power of this book, that, while recounting what I can recall

of its contents, I write as if myself had visited the far-off planet,

learned its ways and appearances, and conversed with its , it seeoes on with the story of ain a long, to her endless winter, set out at last

to find the regions of spring; for, as in our earth, the seasons are

divided over the globe It begins so like this:

She watched the from off the old trees away,

One by one; or else in a shower

Crowding over the withered flower

For as if they had done so,

The sun, that had nursed the back,

Hastened away on his southern track;

And helplessly hung each shrivelled leaf,

Faded aith an idle grief

And the gusts of wind, sad Autuh their fa aith a helpless ht call his own,

As the child, when his bird is gone for ever,

Flingeth the cage on the wandering river

And the giant trees, as bare as Death,

Slowly bowed to the great Wind's breath;

And groaned with trying to keep fro

And the ancient planet'smost restlessly,

And the tops of the waves were broken and white,

Tossing about to ease theirto reach the ain

Nature lived in sadness now;

Sadness lived on the maiden's brow,