beauty of blossom so beautiful as words,—none so graceful, none so perfumed.
It is possible to dream of combinations of syllables so delicious that all the dawning and decay of summer cannot rival their perfection, nor winter's stainless white and azure match their purity and their charm.
To write them, were it possible, would be to take rank with Nature; nor is there any other method, even by music, for human art to reach so high.
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