The Magic of Spring

I buried my heart so deep, so deep,
Under a secret hill of pain,
And said: " O broken pitiful thing
Even the magic spring
Shall ne'er wake thee to life again,
Tho' March woods glimmer with opal rain
And passionate koels sing. "

The kimshuks burst into dazzling flower,
The seemuls burgeoned in crimson pride,
The palm-groves shone with the oriole's wing,
The koels began to sing,
The soft clouds broke in a twinkling tide
My heart leapt up in its grave and cried.
" Is it the spring, the spring? "
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