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Yet still, Mimosa was nervous and faint, And Convolvolus feared to stir, And the Mourning-Widow wept, though long The world had been dark to her.

But Amaranth smil'd, with a changeless eye, And the Constancy rose unbow'd, For a deathless spirit of hope was theirs, And their trust was above the cloud.

That night, King Frost to the garden came, With all his legions, dread, And laid the might of the proudest low, And left the fairest dead.