  All night I smiled as I slept, For I heard the March-wind feel Blindly about in the trees without For buds to heal. All night in dreams, for I smelt, In the rain-wet woods and fields, The coming flowers and the glad green hours That summer yields. And when at dawn I awoke, At the blue-bird's wooing cheep, Winter with all its chill and pall Seemed but a sleep. |
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