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Robert Laurence Binyon - From The Chinese
Work rating: Low

A flower, or the ghost of a flower!
 Mist, or the soul of it, felt
 In the secret night`s mid hour,
 Lost on the morning air!
 Who shall recover it,--beauty born to melt
 As the apparition of blossom brief and shy,
 As the cloud in the sky that vanishes, who knows where?
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