I hear the sparrow’s ditty
     Anear my study door;
     A simple song of gladness
     That winter days are o’er;
     My heart is singing with him,
     I love him more and more….
Oh, Spring is surely coming,
     Her couriers fill the air;
     Each morn are new arrivals,
     Each night her ways prepare;
     I scent her fragrant garments,
     Her foot is on the stair.

John Burroughs (1837–1921)

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