May 2, 2012
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Tufts, tender pink, bloom high
Among sleepy dwellings they preen
Commanding each nose, each touch, each eye
Perfecting charmed scene
Perfection is not meant to stain
Hence serene world ruffled
Blustery gusts and drops rain
Beauty shifted and shuffled
Tufts, tender, pink and pure
Are torn from lofty mast
Forced lowly places, stripped allure
Pink death has come at last

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