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\ TOO YOUNG TO LOVE. 201 
j ROSEBUD, WHITE. 
Rosa Alba. 
Language TOO YOUNG TO LOVE. 
Her bosom was a soft retreat 
For love, and love alone, 
And yet her lieart had never beat 
To love's delicious tone ; 
It dwelt within its circle free 
From tender thoughts like these, 
Waiting the little deity, 
As the blossom waits the breeze, 
Before it throws its leaves apart, 
And trembles like a love-touched heart. 
Mbs. Welby. 
0, why delay the happy time ? ^ 
The hours glide swiftly by, 
And oft we see a sombre cloud 
Obscure the fairest sky. 
Then while the morn is rosy bright, 
Accept my earnest vow ; 
And O, believe me, dearest maid, 
Love's time, love's time, is now. 
p. Benjamix. 
Gather the rosebuds while ye may ; 
Old time is still a-flying ; ^ \ 
And that same flower that blooms to-day 
^ \ 
To-morrow shall be dying. 
Herbick. 
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