403 The Winters are so short— I`m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod— Myself—for scarcely settled— The Phoebes have begun— And then—it`s time to strike my Tent— And open House—again— It`s mostly, interruptions— My Summer—is despoiled— Because there was a Winter—once— And al the Cattle—starved— And so there was a Deluge— And swept the World away— But Ararat`s a Legend—now— And no one credits Noah—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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