Gifts

A dropping shower of spray,
Filled with a beam of light, —
The breath of some soft day, —
The groves by wan moonlight, —
Some rivers flow,
Some falling snow,
Some bird's swift flight; —

A summer field o'erstrown
With gay and laughing flowers,
And shepherd's clocks half blown,
That tell the merry hours, —
The waving grain,
The spring soft rain, —
Are these things ours ?
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