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When I see the chestnut letting All her lovely blossoms falter down, I think, "Alas the day!" - Jean Ingelow, The Warbling of Blackbirds The chestnuts, lavish of their long-hid gold, To the faint Summer, beggared now and old, Pour back the sunshine hoarded 'neath her favoring eye. - James Russell Lowell, Indian-Summer Reverie (st. 10)
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