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Wailing for the young blossom's fall, The last, the most beloved of all. As died in gushing tears the lay, The band of mourners pass'd away: They left their wreaths upon the tomb, As fading leaves and long perfume Of her were emblems; and unbound Many a cage's gilded round, And set the prisoners free, as none Were left to love now she was gone. And azure wings spread on the air, And songs, rejoicing songs, were heard; But, pining as forgotten now, Lingered one solitary bird: A beautiful and pearl-white dove, Alone in its remembering love.