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I want to come to autumn with the silver in my hair,
And maybe have the children stop to look at me
and stare;
I'd like to reach October free from blemish or from
taint,
As splendid as a maple tree which artists love to
paint.
I'd like to come to autumn, with my life work fully
done
And look a little like a tree that's gleaming in the
sun;
I'd like to think that I at last could come through care and tears
And be as fair to look upon as every elm appears.
But when I reach October, full contented I shall be If those with whom
I've walked through life shall
still have faith in me;
Nor shall I dread the winter's frost, when brain
and body tire,
If I have made my life a thing which others can
admire.
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