  Rose Love lay dreaming where I passed, Like flower blown from careless stem; So still I dared to touch at last Her white robe's hem. Rose Love looked up and caught my hand, Though in her eyes the sea-birds were; When o'er my brow there blew a strand Of cold, grey hair. Rose Love stood up unriddling this, Till shadows in my eyes grew old; Then warmed the lock with sudden kiss; Now flames it gold. |
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