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As the blues and purples of night creep slowly across this land, it gives promise of a new day, full of singing birds, and little animals running freely across the Earth. Light will dance around warming and embracing all it touches. Perhaps a light shower will fall and kiss the ground, leaving it fragrant and soft to the touch. A rainbow might splash its colors brightly across the sky. Large billowy clouds of white, slowly floating from one end of the Earth to the other. The power of Rome, the beauty of Venice, the mystery of China; all these dance daily before my eyes. In spring, a youths heart is filled with love, adventure, and a yearning for distant places. Surely no poet can capture all the beauty to be seen! The imagination of a lad is stronger than the greatest poet. What lands he thinks of? What palaces and great halls? What fields of flowers to explore? The poet has brought these things to mind, but a lad in spring is in full flight to capture all with the eye. The wistful smile of a young girl, with hair that smells of violets. Sensitive eyes, Ah yes, eyes that seem to reach into the soul. All the great lovers of old, had no glory like a lad in spring. His victories in love, his victories in battle, all beckon to him though the finger of fate lay upon him. The fragrance of spices from far off Zanzibar, caress' his nostrils and say to him: "Come See!" The mystic chant of far off India. The gaiety and fun of Paris. The quiet charm of Ireland. All beckon: "Come See!" Could a lad in spring write all his yearnings, it should surpa** all poets attempts at portraying peace and beauty, for a lad in spring has these in his heart, and surely 'tis Cod who placed them. Feelings such as these, come but once in a mans life, and once is enough. For fond memories of a lad in spring, will linger long into the chill of age. And when the time has come, as must come for all; surely, last thoughts, must be fond memories, of a lad in spring!