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Excerpt from Poems
You are more beautiful than I can know. Even one loving you might gaze an hour Nor learn the perfect ¿ow Of line and tint in one small, purple ¿ower. There are no two of you the same, And every one is wonderful and new Poor baby-blossoms that have died unblown, And you that droop yourselves as if for shame, You too are perfect. I had hardly known The grace of your glad sisters but for you.
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