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The sloe was lost in flower

by

Author A. E. Housman 
    The sloe was lost in flower,
    The April elm was dim;
    That was the loverΒ’s hour,
    The hour for lies and him.

    If thorns are all the bower,
    If north winds freeze the fir,
    Why, Β‘tis anotherΒ’s hour,
    The hour for truth and her.
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