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Title: The Thrush
Author: Fay Inchfawn [
More Titles by Inchfawn]
Across the land came a magic word
When the earth was bare and
lonely,
And I sit and sing of the joyous spring,
For 'twas I who heard, I only!
Then dreams came by, of the gladsome
days,
Of many a wayside posy;
For a crocus peeps where the wild rose
sleeps,
And the willow wands are rosy! Oh! the time to be! When the paths
are green,
When the primrose-gold is lying
'Neath the hazel spray, where the catkins
sway,
And the dear south wind comes sigh-
ing.
My mate and I, we shall build a nest,
So snug and warm and cosy,
When the kingcups gleam on the meadow
stream,
Where the willow wands are rosy!
[The end]
Fay Inchfawn's poem: Thrush
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