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The Seasons Of Her Year

Topics: classic

I     Winter is white on turf and tree,      And birds are fled;     But summer songsters pipe to me,      And petals spread,     For what I dreamt of secretly      His lips have said! II     O 'tis a fine May morn, they say,      And blooms have blown;     But wild and wintry is my day,      My birds make moan;     For he who vowed leaves me to pay      Alone - alone!

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