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ROSES


Mary
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You love the roses - so do I. I wish

They sky would rain down roses, as they rain

From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?

Then all the valley would be pink and white

And soft to tread on. They would fall as light

As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be

Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!

 

 

George Eliot 1819-1880

 

Thank you Peter and Calamity!

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