Early spring is now here, we thought it oh so
very near,
Winter is now very dead, within our sad &
wooly heads,
And in each curled up bloom, bees singing new
soft tunes,
I hear footsteps of fresh spring, as the chirpy
blackbird sings,
The sun is shining very dear, though rather
weakly, I so fear,
Flowers reek so rank & scentless, gales
blow, still relentless,
In Spring´s fickle false alarm, can dreaming
do us any harm?
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