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Nobody knows this little Rose

Nobody knows this little Rose -

It might a pilgrim be

Did I not take it from the ways

And lift it up to thee.

Only a Bee will miss it -

Only a Butterfly,

Hastening from far journey -

On its breast to lie -

Only a Bird will wonder -

Only a Breeze will sigh -

Ah Little Rose — how easy

For such as thee to die!

c.1858

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