Maio

 

If I could stay up late no doubt

I'd catch the buds just bursting out;

And up from every hidden root

Would jump a tiny slender shoot;

I wonder how seeds learn the way,

They always know the very day—

The pretty, happy first of May;

If I could stay up then, no doubt

I'd catch the buds just bursting out.

Poema "The First of May", da autoria de Annette Wynne

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