It is not that her beauty then Had gone too swiftly home But that she now still walks here when The rose and larkspur come. She told me not that she had sown Immortals blooms for me: A garden with her beauty blown As proud, as patiently. But now she leans to me to smile. Her secret laughter knows How beauty planted once a while For ever blows and grows. I did not know her then as now Remembrance brings her home To me in life to tell me how The heart's abidings come.
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