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SWEET SPRINGTIME
It was in the prime
Of the sweet springtime.
In the linnet's throat
Trembled the love note,
And the love-stirred air
Thrilled the blossoms there.
Little shadows danced,
Each a tiny elf,
Happy in large light
And the thinnest self.
It was but a minute
In a far-off spring,
But each gentle thing,
Sweetly wooing linnet,
Soft thrilled hawthorn tree,
Happy shadowy elf,
With the thinnest self,
Live on still in me.
It was in the prime
Of the past springtime!
This English novelist, poet, journalist and translator was one of the leading writers of the Victorian era. Her novels include The Mill on the Floss and Middlemarch.
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