The Song Of The Thaw

My sandalled feet are firm and fleet,
My chariot wheels are splendid ;

I rush and run before the sun
With balmy breezes blended ;

O'er forests dry, past mountains high,
O'er snowy valleys hollow,

I sweep along with muffled song

And robin red-breasts follow.

Before my blade the snow wreaths fade,

The frosty blast I cripple ;
The frozen stream wakes from its dream,

And straight begins to ripple ;

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