"Now that the winter’s gone, the earth hath lostHer snow-white robes; and now no more the frostCandies the grass, or casts an icy creamUpon the silver lake or crystal stream:But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,And makes it tender; gives a sacred birthTo the dead swallow; wakes in hollow treeThe drowsy cuckoo and the humble-bee.Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring,In triumph to the world, the youthful spring:The valleys, hills, and woods in rich arrayWelcome the coming of the long’d-for May..." -Thomas Carew
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