Collecting l, dispensing, singing in spring, there I wander with them,
Plucking something for tokens-tossing toward whoever is near me;
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pull'd off a live-oak
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me-and returns again, never to be separated,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comrades-this Calamus-root shall,
Interchange it, youths, with each other! Let none render it back!)
Walt Whitman
We love the renewal of spring, the fresh outlooks and bright green hues
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