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The Blue-bird

WHEN winter's cold tempests and snows are no more,
Green meadows and brown-furrowed fields reappearing,
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
And cloud-cleaving geese to the Lakes are a-steering;
When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing;
When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing,
Oh then comes the blue-bird, the herald of spring!
And hails with his warblings the charms of the season.

Then loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring;

Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the weather;
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Friday, May 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: birds
Wilson McWagon 16 December 2020

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES THIS IS SO LEGIT OMFG OMFG! ! ! ! ! ! YES! ! ! ! GOOD POEM 11241421413434324324141/10 YEAH! ! ! !

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A+ student until now 16 December 2020

too hard, got 30 on my test > : (. BTW bot boy thinks this is sum sort of duplicate, - -> y

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A+ student until now: ( 16 December 2020

too hard, got 30 on my test > : (

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David S Fraser 07 December 2017

What a keen and feeling observer of creation

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Ayman Parray 22 May 2015

What a delight it was to read this poem Alexander. Thank you sir for sharing

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