The spring-time snowFalls gently, touching the earthCaressingly with loving fingers;Giving itself to the new birthOf flowers, it softly lingersPerhaps a day and then 'tis gone—The spring-time snow—But i1ts fair soul remains,—Into the fragrance of the roseIt breathes and grows.We forget—after the sun has shoneA little, after the spring-time rains—The spring-time snow.
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