The dust, rolling up in great clouds o'er the street, Obscured the bright flowers that once were so sweet; And the skies were so brilliant and cloudless, a fear Stole o'er us that never a shower would appear. Our hearts were appalled by a sense of our doom, But the skies over-head showed no shower or gloom. We hated to see our bright blossoms and trees, All despoiled of their beauty by dust-laden breeze. Just then, a large Butterfly, panting and lazy, Alighted for rest near a suffering Daisy.
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