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To Spring

O THOU with dewy locks who lookest down 
Through the clear windows of the morning turn 
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle  
Which in full choir hails thy approach O Spring! 

The hills tell one another and the listening 5 
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd 
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth 
And let thy holy feet visit our clime! 

Come o'er the eastern hills and let our winds 
Kiss thy perfum¨¨d garments; let us taste 10 
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls 
Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head 15 Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.

by William Blake
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