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Here is one of my favorite poets: To Autumn       　　Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 　　Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun, 　　Conspiring with him how to load and bless 　　With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; 　　To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, 　　And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 　　To swell the gourd, and plump...