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9-16-63 The Rose The fearful beauty of a rose Invades the crumbling range of summer. In terrible perfection, silently Indicts all compromise around. In delicate accord the lupine Lives in tangled debt with grass. And grasses, up and down with wind, Lift small centuries of shade. In starred fires the lilies rise, And shards of grasses everywhere Catch and spend abundant light To etch and split their stones. The rose full now in fearful calm Is equinox and center Defining everything around it Defining every death and error. [[strikethrough]] The rose with neither point nor sign Makes barriers fall and days sing out The green is skyward [[/strikethrough]]