‘As large as I’—relate the Sun
To One who never felt it blaze—
Itself is all the like it has—
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Traced azure on her hand—Til pleading, round her quiet eyesThe purple Crayons stand.Till Daffodils had come and goneI cannot tell the sum,And then she ceased to bear it—And with the Saints sat down.No more her patient figureAt twilight soft to meet—No more her timid bonnetUpon the village street—But Crowns instead, and Courtiers—And in the midst…