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Poem	The long beautiful night of the wind and rain in April, The long night hanging down from the drooping branches of the top of a birch tree, Swinging, swaying, to the wind for a partner, to the rain for a partner. What is the humming, swishing thing they sing in the morning now? The rain, the wind, the swishing whispers of the long slim curve so little and so dark on the western morning sky … these dancing girls here on an April early morning … They have had a long cool beautiful night of it with their partners learning this year’s song of April.
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