Lone yellow leaf among comrades now brownDee’s Sonnet
Valiantly shimmers in sunshine gold
At peace in decay, content to bed down
Even in dying, beauty to behold
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdShakespeare’s Sonnet 73
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
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