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Gone were but the Winter Come were but the S

Gone were but the Winter
Come were but the Spring
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing;

Where in the whitethorn
Singeth a thrush
And a robin sings
In the holly bush.

Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs
Arching high over
A cool green house

Full of sweet scents
And whispering air
Which sayeth softly
"We spread no snare;

"Here dwell in safety
Here dwell alone
With a clear stream
And a mossy stone.

"Here the sun shineth
Most shadily;
Here is heard an echo
Of the far sea
Though far off it be." .

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by:- admin posted in:- christina rossetti

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