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THINE emulous fond flowers are dead, too, | |
And the daft sun-assaulter, he | |
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead: | |
Save only me | |
(Nor is it sad to thee!) | 5 |
Save only me | |
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields. | |
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The gray grass is not dappled with the snow; | |
Its two banks have not shut upon the river; | |
But it is long ago | 10 |
It seems forever | |
Since first I saw thee glance, | |
With all the dazzling other ones, | |
In airy dalliance, | |
Precipitate in love, | 15 |
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above, | |
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance. | |
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When that was, the soft mist | |
Of my regret hung not on all the land, | |
And I was glad for thee, | 20 |
And glad for me, I wist. | |
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Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high, | |
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind, | |
With those great careless wings, | |
Nor yet did I. | 25 |
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And there were other things: | |
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp: | |
Then fearful he had let thee win | |
Too far beyond him to be gathered in, | |
Snatched thee, oer eager, with ungentle grasp. | 30 |
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Ah! I remember me | |
How once conspiracy was rife | |
Against my life | |
The languor of it and the dreaming fond; | |
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought, | 35 |
The breeze three odors brought, | |
And a gem-flower waved in a wand! | |
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Then when I was distraught | |
And could not speak, | |
Sidelong, full on my cheek, | 40 |
What should that reckless zephyr fling | |
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing! | |
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I found that wing broken to-day! | |
For thou are dead, I said, | |
And the strange birds say. | 45 |
I found it with the withered leaves | |
Under the eaves. | |
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