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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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The sky is smiling over me,

Hath smiled away the frost;

White daisies star the sky-like lea,

With buds the wood's embossed.

Troops of wild flowers gaze at the sky

Up through the latticed boughs;

Till comes the green cloud by and by,

It is not time to house.

Yours is the day, sweet bird--sing on;

The winter is forgot;

Like an ill dream 'tis over and gone:

Pain that is past, is not.

Joy that was past is yet the same:

If care the summer brings,

'Twill only be another name

For love that broods, not sings.

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