Can I be dreaming? 'Twas but yesterday
Can I be dreaming? 'Twas but yesterday
We planted out each tender shoot again;
And now the autumn breeze sighs o'er the plain,
Where fields of yellow rice confess its sway.
We planted out each tender shoot again;
And now the autumn breeze sighs o'er the plain,
Where fields of yellow rice confess its sway.
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