Song 3 Poem by Janetta Philipps
Song 3
Soft twilight bathes in pearly dew
Yon crimson-tinted rose,
And fresher to the gazer's view
The blushing flowret blows.
But ah! when passion's burning tears
The bosom's anguish speak,
How pale the living rose appears
That glowed on beauty's cheek.
Monday, June 30, 2014
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5/2/2024 2:16:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
