Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Ovstug
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To K.B.

You're here again - and of a sudden
A warmth long gone floods my dead heart,
And all I thought forgot, unbidden
Returns, of me becomes a part.

Just as spring's breath may soft come stealing
Upon the air on late fall's day
And rouse in us a vanished feeling
Of life, of something young and gay -
So of past years do I recover
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