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 LIKE this alabaster box whose art 
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart, 
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought 
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent Of rich and passionate memories blent Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove, Of song and sorrow and life and love.

by Sarojini Naidu
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