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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