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Cheering its ruin, and united still Even amid decay, like faithful love, Clinging more closely to the wounded spirit. Around were brightest flowers; the myrtle flung Its snowy buds—a wreath for constancy; The young moss-rose threw from its vermil cheek, The green veil, fresh and beautiful as those That caught their warm carnation from the lips Of Venus, when she kiss'd their fragrant leaves; Fraught with cerulean hues, the violet Half-open'd, timidly, its fair blue eyes; Close by it's side, the lily pensively Bow'd down its languid head, pale as the cheek Faded by sorrow. There the hyacinth bloom'd With liveliest colours; some like rubies glow'd, Some bright with tyrian purple; others wore The melting azure of a summer sky; Some white and stainless, others ting'd with red, Like the last warmth of a departing blush.