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ROSE, on this terrace fifty years ago, When I was in my June, you in your May, Two words, ‘My Rose,’ set all your face aglow, And now that I am white and you are gray, That blush of fifty years ago, my dear, Blooms in the past, but close to me to-day, As this red rose, which on our terrace here Glows in the blue of fifty miles away. |