He could not give, nor she exact.This only was a glowing fact:Spring in a green and golden gown,And feathered feet, had come to town;Spring in a rich habilimentThat shook the breath and woke the spentAnd sleepy pulse to a dervish beat,
Spring had the world again at her feet.Spring was a lady fair and rich,And they were fired with the season's itchTo hold her train or stroke her hairAnd tell her shyly they found her fair.Spring was a voice so high and clearIt broke their hearts as they leaned to hear
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