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Frost In The Country.
The pure delight of each day's dawn,
When birdsong hurries along the morn.
The grass with frost on every blade,
Like silver crystals gently laid.
The pure delight of each day's dawn,
When birdsong hurries along the morn.
The grass with frost on every blade,
Like silver crystals gently laid.
It may be short but it says a
It may be short but it says a lot. Very nice.
Thats kind, Thank you X
Thats kind, Thank you X