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Three Songs of Shattering I.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1917

The first rose on my rose-tree
  Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
      Nothing mattered.
Grief of grief has drained me clean;
  Still it seems a pity
No one saw,—it must have been
      Very pretty.

Published in Renascence, and Other Poems
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