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I. APRIL.
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33

I.
APRIL.

With the yellow daybreak
Shimmering on his wings,
A robin in my orchard-trees
Sings and sings and sings;
Come to my nest o' down,
Lady-bird o' mine,
Come in your russet gown,—
Don't you be too fine!
Flushing like great jewels
Warmed alive in the sun,

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Dainty triflers round me
Are flitting, many a one;
Some with caps of sky-blue
Dashed with flakes of white,—
Some with golden zigzags
In velvets black as night.
Some in pretty bodices
Of green, with silver specks,
And some with blood-red ruffles
Shivering on their necks.
How they flash and sparkle
Round each orchard-tree,
With their darling little heads
All aside to me!
You may go, my beauties,
Each of you your gate,—
Your finery frightens from me
My modest little mate;

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She will come in colors
As quiet as a mouse,—
Go your ways and sing your lays,—
She shall keep my house!
So this robin with the dews
Shimmering on his wings,
Daily in my orchard-trees
Sings and sings and sings;
Come to my nest o' down
Lady-bird o' mine,—
Come in your russet gown,—
Don't you be too fine!