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The day becomes more solemn and serene
 * When noon is past—there is a harmony
 * In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,

Which thro' the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been!
 * Thus let thy power, which like the truth
 * Of nature on my passive youth

Descended, to my onward life supply
 * Its calm—to one who worships thee,
 * And every form containing thee,
 * Whom, fair, thy spells did bind

To fear himself, and love all human kind.