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"SUMER IS ICUMEN IN"
These, when the beauty of the spring
Clad in this alien dress
Turns like a sharp sword in our hearts
For utter loveliness,
And joy and sorrow intermixed
Run tingling through our veins—
These bring more peace and comfort still
Than newer, subtler strains.
Oh, quarrion for missel-thrush
And rosewood bloom for may!
The things the nameless singer saw
Are what we see to-day.
The grass is just as green to-day,
The distant hill as blue,
The birds are just as glad as then,
The lovers just as true;
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