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Life's brightest memories around you cling.
Child, girl, and woman, I have loved you long.
My friend, my poet, if I too may sing,
To you is dedicate my wreath of song.
Yet it should be of fairer flowers than grow
Within my garden wall. This wreath I twine
In Beauty's fields, where deathless blossoms glow,
The hand that gathers them alone is mine.
