April Come she will
April Come She Will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
June she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remembre.
A love once has now grown old.
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