Plum-Trees in a Spring-Storm
Which be buds of the plum-trees,
And which be stars of the snow —
When flakes fall thick on the blossoms —
How, — sweetheart! how shall we know?
Are you jealous of Earth, white Heaven!
That you shower down your cloud-petals so?
And which be stars of the snow —
When flakes fall thick on the blossoms —
How, — sweetheart! how shall we know?
Are you jealous of Earth, white Heaven!
That you shower down your cloud-petals so?
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