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SEPTEMBER IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

SEPTEMBER on New Hampshire's hills!

A nameless exultation thrills

The golden valleys at her breath;

And leaves that redden to their death

Stir at what sweet voice fills

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The sunlit silence; white clouds blow

From dawn-prickt mountains to the glow

Of folded west; her blue skies fall

In frosty splendor over all.

Her light robes rustle thro' the woods

Of Bearcamp's river-solitudes;

Her cool breath puffs the foam that falls

In white wreaths down the rocky walls :

Her unseen presence broods

O'er hill and island, lake and shore;

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