You will return to us when the sore winter bursts,
and from the earth springs life anew,
you shall be the first,
and wear a pure white bonnet;
leaning from your hiding place,
charming in the light of dawn,
we shall see your face...
In the mossy, coloured grass beneath
our childrens aged feet,
and witness the decay of this land,
until all but remains a wreath.
For time will come to pass;
and we shall then blossom as one.
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