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To Flush, My Dog Elizabeth Barrett Browning ( 1806-61) LOVING friend, the gift of one, Who, her own true faith, hath run, Through thy lower nature ; Be my benediction said With my hand upon thy head, Gentle fellow-creature ! Like a lady's ringlets brown, Flow thy silken ears adown Either side demurely, Of thy silver-suited breast Shining out from all the rest Of thy body purely. Darkly brown thy body is, Till the sunshine, striking this, Alchemize its dulness, — When the sleek curls manifold Flash all over into gold, With a burnished fulness. Underneath my stroking hand, Startled [...]