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When aince Aprile has fairly come

by Robert Louis Stevenson, 1885

When aince Aprile has fairly come,
An' birds may bigg in winter's lum,
An pleisure's spreid for a' and some
      O' whatna state,
Love, wi' her auld recruitin' drum,
      Than taks the gate.

The heart plays dunt wi' main an' micht;
The lasses' een are a' sae bricht,
Their dresses are sae braw an' ticht,
      The bonny birdies!—
Puir winter virtue at the sicht
      Gangs heels ower hurdies.

An' aye as love frae land to land
Tirls the drum wi' eident hand,
A' men collect at her command,
      Toun-bred or land'art,
An' follow in a denty band
      Her gaucy standart.

An' i, wha sang o' rain an' snaw,
An' weary winter weel awa',
Noo busk me in a jacket braw,
      An' tak my place
I' the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw,
      Wi' smilin face.

Published in A Child's Garden of Verses

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