When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again
June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold
September I'll remember
A love once new has now grown old...
/Simon & Garfunkel
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