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Now comes a shower-cloud o'er the sky, Then all again sunshine; Then clouds again, but brightened with The rainbow's coloured line.

Ay, this, this is the month for me! I could not love a scene Where the blue sky was always blue, The green earth always green.

It is like love; oh, love should be   An ever-changing thing,— The love that I could worship must Be ever on the wing.

The chain my mistress flings round me   Must be both brief and bright;