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Ode To May

by Peter Burn

Queen of months, supremely fair,
Cloth'd with garments rich and rare,
None in beauty can compare
With thee, sweet May.

Lovely month, thou bringest mirth,
Spreadest sweetness o;er the earth,
Causest Nature to give birth
To fruits and flowers.

Thou art lov'd by young and old.
Joys for each thou dost unfold;
Never shall our hearts grow cold
To thee, sweet May.

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