The Shadow Rose
A noisette on my garden path
An ever-swaying shadow throws;
But if I pluck it strolling by,
I pluck the shadow with the rose.
Just near enough my heart you stood
To shadow it,--but was it fair
In him, who plucked and bore you off,
To leave your shadow lingering there?
An ever-swaying shadow throws;
But if I pluck it strolling by,
I pluck the shadow with the rose.
Just near enough my heart you stood
To shadow it,--but was it fair
In him, who plucked and bore you off,
To leave your shadow lingering there?
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