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[Newspaper Clipping]

LEAVES.
Peace to these little broken leaves,
That strew our common ground;
That chase their tails, like silly dogs
As they go round and round.
For though in winter boughs are bare,
Let us not once forget
Their summer glory, when these leaves
Caught the great sun in their strong
net;
And made him, in the lower air,
Tremble -- no bigger than a star!
--W.H. Davies, in The Spectator.