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Wed, Jul 27, 11 at 16:16
| The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting, The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green, Timid, and hesitating. The rain comes down in a torrent sweep And the nights smell warm and pinety, The garden thrives, but the tender shoots Are yellow-green and tiny. Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill, Streams laugh that erst were quiet, The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue And the woods run mad with riot. Summer in the South by Paul Laurence Dunbar |
Follow-Up Postings:
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| Good words to start the day. |
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- Posted by coconut-nj 6 (My Page) on Fri, Jul 29, 11 at 1:39
| Beautiful and accurate. Stunning images. Thanks. |
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