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Spring's Song.
Filtered fingers of spring's warm touch
Add comma's to the trees.
And gnarled hands upon the bough
May wear a ring of blossom now.
A huddle of daisies lift their face
To gossip with the sun.
Forsythia, now, is dressed to please
She flutters yellow skirts to tease.
In joy of spring, the speedwell too
Has gaily donned his garb of blue.
For deep within all earthly things
Quickening life has now begun.
