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From my pillow
Rose I, to see
Out my window
Falling softly:
Quiet raindrops
Wetting dry leaves
Tapping rooftops
Kind, but naive.
Without sorrow,
Without knowing
Clouds tomorrow
Will be snowing.
First I thought those
Raindrops squandered,
But I suppose
I've grown fonder
Of late rains that
Ignore the cold;
We should feign that
and be so bold.
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