What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched my eyeballs burn, :;:;:;:; I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging Zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, :;:;:;:; And turns me "dust to dust."
What, joy, June's, return, feet, parched, eyeballs, burn, scent
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