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106 POEMS.
V.
TO MARCH.
"pvEAR March, come in!
M How glad I am !
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat
You must have walked
How out of breath you are !
Dear March, how are you ?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well ?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!
I got your letter, and the birds' ;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, I declare,
How red their faces grew !
But, March, forgive me
And all those hills
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