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18
MORNING GLORY.
The mocking-bird swells his anxious throat,
Trying to be ten birds in one
And the swallow twitters, and dives, and darts
Into the azure to find the sun.

But robin red-breast builds his house
Singing a song of the joy to come,
And the oriole trims his golden vest,
Glad to be back in his last year's home.

Lilies that sway on their slender stalks,
Morning-glories that nod to the breeze,
Bloom of blossoms and joy of birds,—
What in the world is better than these?