Precious to Me — She still shall be —
Though She forget the name I bear —
The fashion of the Gown I wear —
The very Color of My Hair —
So like the Meadows — now —
I dared to show a Tress of Theirs
If haply — She might not despise
A Buttercup's Array —
I know the Whole — obscures the Part —
The fraction — that appeased the Heart
Till Number's Empery —
Remembered — as the Millner's flower
When Summer's Everlasting Dower —
Confronts the dazzled Bee.
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