Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain, Till, burst at length, each wat'ry head o'er flows.
If there comes a little thaw, still the air is chill and raw. Here and there a patch of snow, dirtier than the ground below, dribbles down a marshy flood; ankle-deep you stick in mud in the meadows while you sing, "This is Spring."
Create and save customized flash cards. Sign up today and start improving your vocabulary!