Clasping thorns to their bosom

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Clasping thorns to their bosom,
In season spring flowers blossom.

It's green all around,
The birds produce sweet sound.

Flowers teach us ever to smile,
Never to be sad even for a while.

Never do they take to pricking,
To the plant they keep sticking.

Children enjoy flying the kites,
All around are beautiful sights.
Happy Basant Panchami!

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