‘Dear little one, I love thee well,
Be ever here thy sweet repose!’
Seeing the rose with love bedight,
The envious sky frowned dark, and then
Sent forth a messenger of light
And caught the dewdrop up again.
‘Oh, give me back my heavenly child,–
My love!’ the rose in anguish cried;
Alas! the sky triumphant smiled,
And so the flower, heart-broken, died.
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