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A LAY OF THE EARLY ROSE.
  The little flies did crawl
  Along the southern wall,—
Faintly shifting, faintly shifting
Wings scarce strong enough for lifting.

  The lark, too high or low,
  I ween, did miss her so;
With his nest down in the gorses,
And his song in the star-courses!

  The nightingale did please
  To loiter beyond seas.
Guess him in the happy islands,
Learning music from the silence!

  Only the bee, forsooth,
  Came in the place of both;
Doing honour, doing honour,
To the honey-dews upon her.

  The skies looked coldly down,
  As on a royal crown;
Then with drop for drop, at leisure,
They began to rain for pleasure.

  Whereat the earth did seem
  To waken from a dream,
Winter-frozen, winter-frozen,
Her unquiet eyes unclosing—

  Said to the Rose—"Ha, Snow!
  And art thou fallen so?
Thou, who wert enthroned stately
All along my mountains, lately?

  "Holla, thou world-wide snow!
  And art thou wasted so?
With a little bough to catch thee,
And a little bee to watch thee?"