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The lady

Shows up fashionably late
In a red silk silver threaded brocade
She walks through the woods her finery on parade
Long was the wait its worth is beyond debate

Greenery covers the back yard again
Bushes adorned with red and gold flowers
A gust of wind blows poof, blossoms like showers
Scattered about her oboe's sweet refrain

Everywhere lovers each with a ring
Expecting exchanges to bring them bliss
Carriages marriages magical breezes that kiss
Her entrance a flourish which we applaud, Spring

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