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war has begun, they say:

Well, Spring is here before it;

If war takes much away,

And leaves us to deplore it,—

Yet see! the woody dells once more

Are turning green, in spite of war.

On yonder maple-tree

The misty buds are swelling;

Violets, timidly,

Peep from their mossy dwelling,

And bluebirds, far and near, outpour

Their brimming hope, in spite of war.