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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


ECHOES OF SPRING: 8 by MATHILDE BLIND

First Line: THE BLOOMING HEDGE, THE BUDDING GROVE
Last Line: HAST THOU NO LANGUAGE BUT A SIGH?
Subject(s): SPRING;

The blooming hedge, the budding grove,
Resound with notes of joy and love;
The gleaming bush, the glimm'ring tree,
Live with a dewy melody.

Along the meadows, flashing bright,
Run trills of shrill and sweet delight;
E'en the small snowy clouds among,
Gush showers on showers of silver song.

But thou, my heart, oh, tell me why
Hast thou no language but a sigh?




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