ShadowEven the beauty of the rose doth cast,When its bright, fervid noon is past,A still and lengthening shadow in the dust,Till darkness comeAnd take its strange dream home.The transient bubbles of the water paint'Neath their frail arch a shadow faint;The golden nimbus of the windowed saint,Till shine the stars,Casts pale and trembling bars.The loveliest thing earth hath, a shadow hath,A dark and livelong hint of death,Haunting it ever till its last faint breath.Who, then, may tellThe beauty of heaven's shadowless asphodel?
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