The Myrtle
Little blue flower of the myrtle,
Loveliness dew-impearled;
Beauty I find,
But nowhere combined
So sweetly with rest, or so wholly refined;
Emblem thou art
Of the lowly heart
And of Love, the joy of the world.
Loveliness dew-impearled;
Beauty I find,
But nowhere combined
So sweetly with rest, or so wholly refined;
Emblem thou art
Of the lowly heart
And of Love, the joy of the world.
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