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A LAY OF THE EARLY ROSE.
  Her pretty gestes did win
  South winds to let her in,
In her loneness, in her loneness,
All the fairer for that oneness.

  "For if I wait," said she,
  "Till times for roses he,—
For the musk-rose and the moss-rose,
Royal-red and maiden-blush rose,—

  "What glory then for me
  In such a company?—
Roses plenty, roses plenty,
And one nightingale for twenty?

  "Nay, let me in," said she,
  V Before the rest are free,—
In my loneness, in my loneness,
All the fairer for that oneness.

  "For I would lonely stand,
  Uplifting my white hand,—
On a mission, on a mission,
To declare the coming vision.

  "Upon which lifted sign,
  What worship will be mine?
What addressing, what caressing!
And what thank, and praise, and blessing

  "A windlike joy will rush
  Through every tree and bush,
Bending softly in affection
And spontaneous benediction.

  "Insects, that only may
  Live in a sunbright ray,
To my whiteness, to my whiteness,
Shall be drawn, as to a brightness,—