Some
stubborn snow
Just will not go;
It likes to hang around.
It’s laying low
But as we know
It uglifies the ground.
Just will not go;
It likes to hang around.
It’s laying low
But as we know
It uglifies the ground.
For
city air
Makes white snow rare.
Each day the heaps get grayer;
And those that care
Might even dare
To blame it on the mayor.
Makes white snow rare.
Each day the heaps get grayer;
And those that care
Might even dare
To blame it on the mayor.
Yet
very soon
(Perhaps by June)
The sun will melt those piles
And we’ll commune
Each snow-free noon
With spring-like beaming smiles.
(Perhaps by June)
The sun will melt those piles
And we’ll commune
Each snow-free noon
With spring-like beaming smiles.
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