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Of one, in whom united blend 
The graces, worth and beauty lend; 
The beau ideal of a Friend. 
A something, — I define it not, — 
For every heart may whisper what, 
If seen can never be forgot; 
And in thy pure and tender blue, 
Fidelity’s symbolic hue, 
I read inscribed ‘to memory true.’ 
Then come with me, Sweet Flower, and tell, 
Of Virtues which I love so well; 
Thy very name contains a spell! 
And when thy beauties all decay, 
And e’en thy fragrance fades away, 
I’ll keep thy relics many a day. 
