A Forsaken Garden (not really, of course)
As the sunshine quenches the snowshine; as April subdues thee, and yields up his kingdom to May;So time overcomes the regret that is born of delight as it passes in passion away,And leaves but a dream for desire to rejoice in or mourn for with tears or thanksgivings; but thou,Bright god that art gone from us, maddest and gladdest of months, to what goal hast thou gone from us now? ©
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