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Cowslips Soon Will Dance
Cowslips soon will dance in rings
Above the brimming dew;
Nesting birds will preen their wings
And learn their tender notes anew.
Bees among the whin will flit
Ere April’s moon is old,
And all the dusty roads be lit
With little lamps of starry gold.
The blade will quicken in the sod,
The white moth in her cell,
For winds blow from the south, and God
Is watching over Israel.
March 21

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