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I had a dream the other night:
The cherry trees were blooming early,
Now, in the desolation of winter.
That may very well happen--
Such confusions are no longer rarities,
And my soul is confused along with them,
Those mistimed marvels,
For a little encouragement goes a long way
In fostering hope, soon to be dashed,
A brittle warmth lasting only a day
Before the shrieking gales deny us
Our foolhardy, vain, and awkward revivals.