At Fall, the sky which is of so delicate and faint a drab as to contain something of gentle mockery, and certain more of tenderness, presides at the fall of leaves. There is no air, no breath at all. The leaves are so light that they sidle on their departure downward, hesitating in that which is not void to them, and touching at last so intangible to the earth with which they are to merge, that the gesture is much gentler tha...If you want to get a full essay, crop it on our website: Orderessay
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