  “O sweet white rose, I pray you tell Why in that fragrant heart of thine Where golden sunbeams seldom fell, All grace and gladness seems to dwell, And summer fragrance hold its shrine?” “Sweet, am I,” west wind, sweet and white, Then leave me in the shadow pray, Here soft dews bathe me all the night, And no harsh sunbeam comes at light, To kiss the great white tears away.” [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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