Flowers

O my flowers! On your bosom
Sweet and pale the silver-cradled
Night shall swoon away with love.

On your carpet gay, of blossom
Blue and gold, the softly-sandalled
Breeze shall dance from noon to noon.

O my flowers! At your coming
All the earth glows into gladness,
Dark and cloudy griefs remove.

In my heart the wind is roaming
Wild, the grass is parched with sadness.
Spring! my lovely Spring, come soon!
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