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APRIL.
APRIL.
GREEN o'er the copses Spring's soft hues are spreading,
High wave the Reeds in the transparent floods,
The Oak its sear and sallow foliage shedding,
From their moss'd cradles start its infant buds.
Pale as the tranquil tide of Summer's ocean,
The Willow now its slender leaf unveils;
And thro' the sky with swiftly fleeting motion,
Driv'n by the wind, the rack of April sails.
