  Sweet Rosalie, say, will you take This tiny gift for friendship’s sake? Yes: Friendship will forever shine, Upon a brow so fair as thine. Then may the union lasting be, Between dear Isabelle and thee. Oh, I forgot; ’tis sweet May-day, When Flora paints the mead so gay. Go to your own romantic bower, And gather there the choicest flower; Entwine your wreath with snow-drops, too, And then ’twill more resemble you. |
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