Epigram: Go, Happy Rose
Go, happy rose, and wreathe my dear friend's brow;
Not only now,
But when his shining locks have turned to grey,
(Though distant be that day!)
So, from this hour,
Be love's own flower.
Not only now,
But when his shining locks have turned to grey,
(Though distant be that day!)
So, from this hour,
Be love's own flower.
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