When that April/May season of sweet rain Our old world washes free of winter pain; When every slip and
shoot is big with sap, And even blocks of wood wake from their nap. When feath'ry breezes tickle beastly ears,
And hibernating bears rise from their biers. When the spry, light-heeled Sun runs with the ram, Frolicsome
fishes leap the beaver's dam! - When birds of every feather twit and tweep, And fretful Nature noisily from sleep
Draws fresh green creatures forth from melting snow... On migration animals long to go. And fauna to fan
out to far off lands, To hallowed ground, and ancient sacred strands.
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