Question

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
But the least motion which they made,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.​

Answer 1

Answer:

What is the question exactly?

Explanation:

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