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The Rose 

The fearful beauty of a rose
Invades the crumbling range of summer.
In terrible perfection, silently,
Indicts all compromise around.

In [[strikethrough]]delicate[[/strikethrough]] intricate accord to 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 every where
Catch and spend abundant light
To etch and split their stones.

The rose full now in fearful calm
Is equinox and [[strikethrough]]center[[/strikethrough]] center.
Defining everything around it,
Defining every death and error.