<h2>XLIV</h2>
<p>Belovëd, thou hast brought me many flowers<br/>
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through,<br/>
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew<br/>
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.<br/>
So, in the like name of that love of ours,<br/>
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,<br/>
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew<br/>
From my heart’s ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers<br/>
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,<br/>
And wait thy weeding; yet here’s eglantine,<br/>
Here’s ivy!—take them, as I used to do<br/>
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.<br/>
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,<br/>
And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.</p>
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