When the Greenness Is Come Again
The west wind lifts the plumes of the fir,
The west wind swings on the pine;
In the sun-and-shadow the cushats stir;
For the breath of Spring is a wine
That fills the wood,
That thrills the blood,
When the glad March sun doth shine.
When the strong May sun is a song, a song,
A song in the good green world,
Then the little green leaves wax long
And the little fern-fronds are uncurl'd
The banners of green are all unfurl'd,
And the wind goes marching along, along,
The wind goes marching along
The good green world.
The west wind swings on the pine;
In the sun-and-shadow the cushats stir;
For the breath of Spring is a wine
That fills the wood,
That thrills the blood,
When the glad March sun doth shine.
When the strong May sun is a song, a song,
A song in the good green world,
Then the little green leaves wax long
And the little fern-fronds are uncurl'd
The banners of green are all unfurl'd,
And the wind goes marching along, along,
The wind goes marching along
The good green world.
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