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Poem

60

Like her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!

Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!

“Departed”—both—they say!
i.e. gathered away,
Not found,

Argues the Aster still—
Reasons the Daffodil
Profound!

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Like Flowers, That Heard The News Of Dews
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Longing is like the Seed