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April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.

June, shell change her tune,
In restless walks shell prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September Ill remember
A love once new has now grown old.