Never yet was a springtime,
Late though lingered the snow,
That the sap stirred not at the whisper
Of the southwind, sweet and low;
Never yet was a springtime
When the buds forgot to blow. (Margaret Elizabeth Sangster)

Never yet was a springtime, Late though lingered the snow, That the sap stirred not at the whisper Of the southwind, sweet and low; Never yet was a springtime When the buds forgot to blow.

Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

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blow late low snow stir sweet yet

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