WILD OAT. 



WINDS are growing sweeter 



Day by day ; 



Spring is here, the fields have seen her, 

 And are growing greener, greener, 

 And the woods have found so much 

 In the magic of her touch, 

 That the golden mist of April 



Deepens with the May ! 



Now we feel the new enchantment 



Of the May; 



April days were less than living, 

 Ours the asking, hers the giving, 

 In the golden May-tide weather 

 We can ask and give together, 

 Now no more we wait and listen 



Day by day. 



* See erratum, page 9. 

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