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A Flower-Piece By Fantin

by
 Heart's ease or pansy, pleasure or thought,
Which would the picture give us of these?
Surely the heart that conceived it sought
Heart's ease.
Surely by glad and divine degrees The heart impelling the hand that wrought Wrought comfort here for a soul's disease.
Deep flowers, with lustre and darkness fraught, From glass that gleams as the chill still seas Lean and lend for a heart distraught Heart's ease.

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