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Even in the moment of our earliest kiss,
When sighed the straitened bud into the flower,
Sat the dry seed of most unwelcome this;
And that I knew, though not the day and hour.
Too season-wise am I, being country-bred,
To tilt at autumn or defy the frost:
Snuffing the chill even as my fathers did,
I say with them, "What's out tonight is lost."
I only hoped, with the mild hope of all
Who watch the leaf take shape upon the tree,
A fairer summer and
🌳 -- 👳 -- 🍧 -- 🐝 -- 👽 -- 📕 -- 🍇 -- 📣 -- 🏓 -- 📗 -- 🚕 -- 👔 -- 🍖 -- 💚 -- ⚡