  WHEN I hear the north wind It never fails to bring, Reminders of for-get-me-nots And sunny days in spring. And O! the east wind carries Upon its scented sail, The tho’t of pink arbutus In some secluded vale. And how I’d like to gather When winds are in the west, A brace of orange blossoms To hold against my breast. But O! I love the south wind That breathes across the loam, For O! the tender south wind Just whispers dear “come home!” |
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