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Poem	If I were gusty April now, How I would blow at laughing Rose; I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, And all her hair come loose. If I were merry April now, How I would pelt her cheeks with showers; I'd make carnations, rich and warm, Of her vermillion flowers. Since she will laugh in April's face No matter how he rains or blows -- Then O that I wild April were, To play with laughing Rose.
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