by Evaleen Stein
A robin redbreast, fluting there
Upon the apple-bough,
Is telling all the world how fair
Are apple-blossoms now;
The honey-dew its sweetness spills
From cuckoo-cups, and all
The crocuses and daffodils
Are drest for festival!
Such pretty things are to be seen,
Such pleasant things to do,
The April earth it is so green,
The April sky so blue,
The path from dawn to even-song
So joyous is to-day,
Up, little ones! and dance along
The lilac-scented way!
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