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Chide me not, laborious band! For the idle flowers I brought; Every aster in my hand Goes home loaded with a thought.

The Autumn wood the aster knows, The empty nest, the wind that grieves, The sunlight breaking thro' the shade, The squirrel chattering overhead, The timid rabbits lighter tread Among the rustling leaves.

The aster greets us as we pass With her faint smile.