THE HEART OF A MAID
In the heart of a rose
Lies the heart of a maid;
If you be not afraid
You will wear it. Who knows?
In the pink of its bloom,
Lay your lips to her cheek;
Since a rose cannot speak,
And you gain the perfume.
If the dews on the leaf
Are the tears from her eyes;
If she withers and dies,
Why, you have the belief,
That a rose cannot speak.
Though the heart of a maid
In its bosom must fade.
And with fading must break.
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