  The snow has passed, the crocus blooms, A swelling tide of life returns; Green lights invade the forest glooms, All nature wakes and yearns. The breeze lifts and the ships take wing To havens which we long have known; And yet—and yet I dread the spring, For fear you may be gone. Life gives us sweet delights and then Gathers them back and buries them deep. Oh, wanton hearts, that kill them when They do not tire or sleep. The breeze lifts and the ships take wing— Be with me through the spring. |
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