What joy have I in June's return?
My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn,
I scent no flowery gust;
But faint the flagging Zephyr springs,
With dry Macadam on its wings,
And turns me "dust to dust." (Thomas Hood)

What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging Zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, And turns me "dust to dust."

Thomas Hood

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