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Intimations

I knew the flowers had dreamed of you,
And hailed the morning with regret;
For all their faces with the dew
Of vanished joy were wet.


I knew the winds had passed your way,
Though not a sound the truth betrayed;
About their pinions all the day
A summer fragrance stayed.


And so, awaking or asleep,
A memory of lost delight
By day the sightless breezes keep,
And silent flowers by night.

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