<h3 id="In_Town">In Town</h3>
<p>SOMEWHERE there’s a willow budding<br/>
In a hollow by the river,<br/>
Where the autumn leaves lie sodden,<br/>
Turning all the pool to brown;<br/>
There’s a thrush who’s building early,<br/>
With his feathers all a-shiver,<br/>
And the maple sap is rising—<br/>
But I’m glad that I’m in town.</p>
<p>Somewhere out there in the country<br/>
There’s a brook that’s overflowing,<br/>
And a quaker pussy-willow<br/>
Sews grey velvet on her gown;<br/>
Rushes whisper to each other<br/>
That marsh marigolds are showing,<br/>
And those saucy crocus fellows—<br/>
But I’m glad that I’m in town.</p>
<p>Long ago, when we were younger,<br/>
How those little things enthralled us;<br/>
King-birds nesting in the hedges,<br/>
Baby field-mice soft as down,<br/>
Muskrats in the sun-warmed shallows—<br/>
Strange how all these voices called us!—<br/>
Hark, was that a robin singing?<br/>
<i>When’s the next train out of town?</i></p>
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