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When in the forenoon of the year Fresh flowers and leaves fill all the earth, I hear glad music, faint and clear, Singing day's birth. Its dear delight thrills the dawn through With melody like an old lay Of country birds and morning dew And of the May. And then I hear the first cock crow, And then the twitter in the eaves, And gaze upon the world below Through green rose leaves. And see the white mist melt away, And watch the sleepless sheep come out Under the trees that hear all day One cuckoo's shout.
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