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The Spring Race

by Annette Wynne

Said the wee yellow crocus with hurrying feet
To the hurrying bluebird, "I'll beat, O I'll beat,"
But the bluebird called, "Why
I'll be back in a jiffy through air and through sky;
O there's no doubt I'll win,
For I'm sure I'll be in
At the very first bound;"
Then the crocus gave one good push from the ground,
But what do you think?—at that very same minute—
She saw a near tree with the puffing bird in it!
They looked at each other and then at the sun,
And then they both laughed—for it's strange I but both won!
And quite out of breath they sat thinking together,
How the old places looked and what beautiful weather!

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