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Show Omxm an If.' f it1 Ho, the voice of spring Is calling Where tho dreary fleldo are sleeping, And a whisper, softly Tallin?, Set tho burled Hie to creeping; It Is calling" "Waken! TViken!" Till the barren twigs are shaken And the budB that cling In drowalny Swell with leaves that they are housing:. 1 And the voice of Rprrngtlmo forces All tho cap until It rushes Through the hidden ways and courses That It loft In wintry hushes. And tho cnll apeed6 on. and passes All the roots of all the grasses "With Its word of warmlnpr showers For the world of sleeping: flowers. And the dream-held bees will chuckle In their sleep, and rcont the bursting Of tho rose nnd honeyiucklo With the nectnr for tholr thirsting. Through the orchard goes a thrilling Of tho blossoms meant for spilling To tho broezes In tholr playlne With the nhtno and shndow straylnjr. Ho. the voice of nprln? Is speeding Out ocrow the hills and hollows And tuned to Its Joyous leading la n song1 that swiftly follows Till the birds afar hav heard It On the wlndn that havo not burred It, And their wlnjjs are thrumming, thrum- mlnjr, For they're comlnff, comlnjr. coming. Bud and blossom, bouffh and berry. Sky and coll. and man and maiden 8onse the calling-. Bwcet and merry. With Its olden promise laden And we rise with hearts enraptured Of tho sons that we havo captured, Of tbo song that lllta with laughter, Of the days that shall oome after. |