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And suddenly the wind comes soft,
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And Spring is here again;
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And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green
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And my heart with buds of pain.
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My heart all Winter lay so numb,
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The earth so dead and frore,
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That I never thought the Spring would come again
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Or my heart wake any more.
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But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
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And the small birds cry again;
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And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
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And my heart puts forth its pain.