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was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose,— The Moon doth with delight
Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song,
And I again am strong.
And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;— Thou Child of Joy Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
My heart is at your festival,
This sweet May-morning;
On every side,
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
And cometh from afar?
From God, who is our home: