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Show WILL O' WISPS. With gayety and laughter. The vagroms chasing after. The butterflies come racing down The meadowlands in bloom. They scatter fragrance ever That lingereth for never Can soul forget in vain regret The clover's sweet perfume. I see them in the shadows Come prancing down tfie meadows The vagrom crew in, every hue Of summer blooms and skies. I reach my hand to greet them; My heart it leaps to meet them They fade away like will o' wips , A-wing in Paradise. Horace Seymour Keller in New York Sun. |