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And last the elephant came, whose tower Held the lord of this pomp and power: And round that chariot of his pride, Like chains of white sea-pearls, Of braids enwove of summer flowers, Glided fair dancing girls; And as the rose-leaves fall to earth, Their light feet touched the ground,— But for the zone of silver bells You had not heard a sound, As, scattering flowers o'er the way, Whirled round the beautiful array. But there was one who 'mid them shone A planet lovely and alone, A rose, one flower amid many, But still the loveliest of any: