From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.
T'was Spring, t'was Summer, all was gay Now Autumn bears a cloud brow The flowers of Spring are swept way And Summer fruits desert the bough
The insect-youth are on the wing, Eager to taste the honied spring, And float amid the liquid noon!
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