At the Window

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I looked out of my window tall

And laughed to see the May,

For everything both great and small

Was on a holiday.

Then Love came by and laughed at me,

And I forgot the Spring—

Only I knew the ecstasy

Of madly listening.

And now the branches all again

Are red with vernal May,

But tears have dimmed the window-pane—

And no one comes my way.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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