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The sprites of the fruits, and flowers, and leaves,
They had long been out at play…
But the stirring blast that clarion cast,
Oh, it broke their holiday!—
And they hurry home at their topmost speed,
Flurried and flushed with the sudden need,
Sprinkling the earth as they pass along
With a flood of colour and gush of song—
For the Summer is coming to wed the Spring,
And earth on their altar her wealth shall fling,
And the Heaven’s soft odours and breezes bring,
And the hollow heights and the depths shall ring
With a wild overgushing of gladdening…

J.J. Britton (1832–1913), “March”

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