Memories of this green coolness
Will have to sustain me all through the summer
| OH, to be in England now that April ’s there | |
| And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, unaware, | |
| That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf | |
| Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, | |
| While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough | |
In England—now!
(Robert Browning) |
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