Love's Land

In the South is Love's land,
Where the roses blow,
Where the Summer lingers
Fearless of the snow.
There no Winter chills it,
So its life is long, —
Gentle breezes fan it,
Age but makes it strong.

" Nay, fresh roses wither
Where the sun is hot, —
Not in torrid regions
Blooms Forget-me-not.
Love's a tender blossom
Which the Winter chills,
But the eager Summer
Kisses it, and kills. "
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