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A poem by Archibald Lampman |
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In May |
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Title: In May Author: Archibald Lampman [More Titles by Lampman] Grief was my master yesternight; The sowers in the furrows go; The silvery distance of the day, The bobolinks at noonday sing The roads far off are towered with dust; But here there is no stir at all; An infant rivulet wind-free From pool to pool it prattles by; I care not for the old distress, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |