To a Withered Rose
Thy span of life was all too short—
A week or two at best—
From budding-time, through blossoming,
To withering and rest.
Yet compensation hast thou—aye!—
For all thy little woes;
For was it not thy happy lot
To live and die a rose?
A week or two at best—
From budding-time, through blossoming,
To withering and rest.
Yet compensation hast thou—aye!—
For all thy little woes;
For was it not thy happy lot
To live and die a rose?
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