  The steadfast beauty of her eyes is balm, And in her touch there's healing for my hurt; She is unshaken as a vessel girt Mid waters of unutterable calm. The years grow fragrant with her fragrance: they, Sipping her sweetness, leave her yet more sweet. Laden with divers colours, at her feet They shed their motley silks and go their way Like withered dreams. So youth must follow after, Youth that is brief and beauty that is grass; But from her gentle soul shall never pass The strength, the mellow music, and the laughter. |
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