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She blooms and glows and brightens, 



Intent on him above ; 

 Exhaling, weeping, trembling 



With ever-yearning love. 



HEINRICH HEINE. 

 (Translated by JAMES THOMSON.) 



OLD-FASHIONED ROSES 



THEY ain't no style about 'em, 



And they're sorto' pale and faded, 

 Yit the doorway here, without 'em, 

 Would be lonesomer, and shaded 

 With a good 'eal blacker shadder 



Than the morning-glories makes, 

 And the sunshine would look sadder 

 For their good old-fashion' sakes. 



I like 'em 'cause they kindo' 

 Sorto' make a feller like 'em ! 

 And I tell you, when I find a 



Bunch out whur the sun kin strike 'em, 

 It allus sets me thinkin' 



O' the ones 'at used to grow 

 And peek in thro' the chinkin' 

 O' the cabin, don't you know ! 



And then I think o' Mother, 

 And how she ust to love 'em 



When they wuzn't any other, 



'Less she found 'em up above 'em ! 



