It happens when the spring arrives,
I scatter seeds, and rake;
And yet, across the barren yard
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The grass is loath to take.
But then from merest crevice — crack —
Upon the weathered drive,
The blades of grass come shooting forth;
They somehow seem to thrive.
From limestone bluff — that’s solid rock! —
Or sidewalk crack, there’s grass;
So, grass in such unwanted spots,
And not the yard? Alas!