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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.