Chapter XL

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How like the balmy breathing of the spring,
Is the unfolding of Love's happy morn!
Then our nurst hopes, anticipating, bring
The May-day breaking, that shall bear no thorn:
The thorn must have its birth-day with the rose--
When one is blighted, still the other grows,
And grows the keener, as the seared leaves fall,
And rankles in the heart when the storm scatters all.