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SONGS OF THE SOUL



UNDYING BEAUTY

They did their bestAnd they are blest,—The sap, the shoots,The little leaves and roots;The benign breath,The touch of light,—All worked in amityTo grow the rose’s beauty.Watch its splendor,Its undying grandeur,The Infinite FaceThat peeps through its little case;—Watch not in griefIts falling petals or its briefSojourn here;—For its careerDone, its duty ends;Toward the Immortals’ home it tends.The sap dried,The summer petals fled,

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