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Denzil place

a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb]

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Alas, for snow-drop immortality!—
The same to careless eyes, yet not the same,—
Heir to the drooping head and fragile stem,—
Heir to the chaste traditions of the race—
Emblem to trusting hearts of those belov'd
Whose sleeping bodies, wrapp'd in silent clay,
Await the second wakening to life,
To rise like these fair blossoms, from a dark
Mysterious imprisonment! Ah, who
May say if this long-cherish'd metaphor
Which Spring each year renews, is, as a whole,
Perfect, or but a visionary hope
Begot of Faith and Love? Ah, true indeed
The wondrous resurrection of the flow'r,—
The flow'r of kin, the fragrant heir-in-fee,

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But not, alas, that flow'r of bygone Spring
Which, brown and faded, lies between the leaves
Of some old book, a soulless scentless thing,
Wither'd as those dear hands, maybe, that cull'd
Its dead forgotton blossom! Ah that flow'r,
That very flow'r! Grant me the grace to know,—
To understand the subtle second life
Which was not crush'd, when on its pearly youth
Closed those dim pages like a living tomb!