See
When the night
Is brighter than predawn
When shadows are sharper
Then you know it
In her flowery gown
Spring is on its way
To attend the moon harvest ball.
Suggestive and romantic is
The music played by the softest breeze
The roaming pigeons in love
Add their cooing to the night chorus
Sustained by the bobook owls beat
The last of the wattles are lighting
With their fragrant golden blossoms
The open halls of the forest
Hurry up if you want to see her
In her dazzling brightness
As Spring has to rush on
Leaving us behind her.
Lucette C. Bailliet
All rights reserved
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