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THE LEAFY SPRING.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

THE LEAFY SPRING.

I love the pleasant spring,
When buds begin to push,
And flowers their nosegays bring
To hang on every bush,
Till stores of May, with snowy bloom,
Fill the young hedge-rows with perfume,

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Above the garden beds,
Watched well by lady's eye,
Snowdrops with milky heads
Peep to the soft'ning sky,
And welcome crocuses shoot up,
With gilded spike and golden cup.
Oh, I some meadows know
Beside our good old town,
Where millions of them grow,
Just like a purple down!
They come,—but why, there's none can tell,
Only we love to see them, well.
On pastures wide and green,
Upon a thousand stems,
Fit for a fairy queen
To wear for precious gems,
Young cowslips smile at earth and sky,
With sweetest breath and golden eye.
And where the banks are wet
With drops of morning dew,
The gentle violet
Steals out, in hood of blue,

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And primroses in clusters rise,
Like pretty, pale-faced families.
I love the pleasant spring,
Those days of warmth and light,
When every leafy thing
Comes peeping into sight;
It makes me feel,—I cannot tell
How brisk and happy, kind and well.
 

There is a beautiful spontaneous growth of the purple crocus every spring, in the meadows of Nottingham, the valley of the Trent.