Arrayed in springtime apparel,
Blackbird, confused and constrained,
Struts his waking nightmare through
A season of mellow fruitlessness.
Robin sporting his prim waistcoat,
Signals red to cry
In confused ferocity,
“Stop! Enter not this territory.”
The tiny crocus in modesty
Dances with chill breezes to bloom
Alongside nature’s seasonal error,
The inconsequential Nerine.
Alas. Green nature can but stand aside and groan,
For Dylan’s green fuse has sadly blown
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