August
The wind sang to the cornfields
A happy little song,
And this is what he whispered.
“The harvest won't be long.”
The wind sang to the windmill
A merry little tune.
The windmill answered gaily,
“The harvest's coming soon.”
The whispering of the poppies
Through the cornfields steals along,
They are joining with the fairies
Singing harvest's merry song.
A happy little song,
And this is what he whispered.
“The harvest won't be long.”
The wind sang to the windmill
A merry little tune.
The windmill answered gaily,
“The harvest's coming soon.”
The whispering of the poppies
Through the cornfields steals along,
They are joining with the fairies
Singing harvest's merry song.
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