Oh for a thousand tongues to sing
the glories of these days of spring
when buds appear and birdsong soars
in loud crescendo o'er the moors
when daffodils and snowdrops rise
beneath the blue benevolent skies
and fish are rising in the lake -
what glories their creator makes!
We dare to hope that winter's past
Our countenances lift at last
and hearts swell to the spring's refrain
as life bursts forth from earth again.
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