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ELIZABETH BROWNING. 
IV. 
The dew that used to wet thee, 
And, white first, grow incarnadined, because 
It lay upon thee where the crimson was,— 
If dropping now, would darken where it met thee. 
v. 
The fly that lit upon thee, 
To stretch the tendrils of his tiny feet, 
Along thy leaf’s pure edges, after heat, — 
If lighting now, would coldly overrun thee. 
J VI. 
The bee that once did suck thee, 
And build thy perfumed ambers up his hive, 
And swoon in thee for joy, till scarce alive,— 
If passing now, would blindly overlook thee. 
VII. 
The heart doth recognize thee, 
Alone, alone ! The heart doth smell thee sweet, 
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete— 
Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee 
VIII. 
Yes, and the heart doth owe thee 
More love, dead rose ! than to such roses bold 
As Julia wears at dances, smiling cold !— 
Lie still upon this heart—which breaks below thee I 
