All old fair things are in their places,
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I count them over, and miss but one;
The April flowers are running races,
The green world stretches its arms to the sun;
The nuptial dance of the days is begun—
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The same young stars in the same old skies;
And all that was lost again is won—
But where have they hidden those great eyes?
All have come back—dogwood and daisies—
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All things ripple and riot and run;
Swallow and swallow in aery mazes,
A fairy frolic of fire and fun;
The same old enchanted web is spun,
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With diamond dews, for the same old flies;
Yet all is new, spite of Solomon—
But where have they hidden those great eyes?
Lovely as love are the new-born faces—
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God knows they are fair to look upon;
And my heart goes out to the young embraces,
To the flight of the young to the young;
But, Time, what is it that thou hast done?
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For my heart 'mid all the blossom cries:
"Roses are many, the Rose is gone—
Ah! where have they hidden those great eyes?"
Prince, I bring you my April praises,
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But O on my heart a shadow lies;
For a face I see not all my gaze is—
Ah! where have they hidden those great eyes?