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Some formed of the silver leaf Of the almond, bright and brief, Just a frail and lovely thing, For but one hour's flourishing; Others, on whose shaft there glows The red beauty of the rose; Some in spring's half-folded bloom, Some in summer's full perfume; Some with withered leaves and sere, Falling with the falling year; Some bright with the rainbow-dyes Of the tulip's vanities; Some, bound with the lily's bell, Breathe of love, that dares not tell Its sweet feelings; the dark leaves Of the esignum, which grieves