A Song
Like a rose sprang Jeanie,
From a blue May hour,
Friendship all her pride,
Virtue all her dower.
Like a rose spread Jeanie,
Whom warm skies illume;
Like its breath, in sweetness;
Like its dye, in bloom.
Like a rose fell Jeanie,
Snut by winter cold;
Loved—destroyed—derided;
So,—her tale is told!
Oh, too tender woman!
Heed her shame—her pain:
Let's not tell her story
A thousand times in vain!
From a blue May hour,
Friendship all her pride,
Virtue all her dower.
Like a rose spread Jeanie,
Whom warm skies illume;
Like its breath, in sweetness;
Like its dye, in bloom.
Like a rose fell Jeanie,
Snut by winter cold;
Loved—destroyed—derided;
So,—her tale is told!
Oh, too tender woman!
Heed her shame—her pain:
Let's not tell her story
A thousand times in vain!
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