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Of every sort which in that meadow grew They gathered some; the violet, pallid blue, The little daisy that at evening closes, The virgin lily and the primrose true, With store of vermeil roses, To deck their bridgegrooms' poises Against the bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames run softly, till I end my song. -Edmund Spenser (c.1552-1599), Prothalamion |