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 Who sped your beauty's seed across the sea, Bidding you burgeon in that alien clime? And what prophetic wind of destiny Restored you to us in your flowering time

For a brief season to delight and bless Our hearts with delicate splendour and perfume, Till Death usurped your vivid loveliness In wanton envy of its radiant bloom?

O frail, miraculous flower, tho' you are dead, The deathless fragrance of your spirit cleaves To the dear wreath whereon our tears are shed, Of your sweet wind-blown and love-garnered Leaves. 19