One Red Leaf

45	The night is chill; the forest bare;
	Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
	There is not wind enough in the air
	To move away the ringlet curl
	From the lovely lady's cheek--
50	There is not wind enough to twirl
	The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
	That dances as often as dance it can,
	Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
	On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

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