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116

WHEN

When blackbirds sit in damson trees
And pour upon the summer breeze
Their bright domestic melodies,
It's no use calling Uncle.
When several saucy bluetits come
And make the archway near the plum
A quivering gymnasium,
It's no use calling Uncle.
When Autumn butterflies display
Their wings on lavender, and stay,
As if to think of God, and pray,
It's no use calling Uncle.
When Evening travels out of sight
And Beauty comes to dress the Night
In black, with silver beads of light,
It's no use calling Uncle.