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ROSE. 
And it seemed to a fanciful view. 
To weep for the buds it had left with regret. 
On the flourishing bush where it grew. 
I hastily seized it, unfit as it was, 
For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned. 
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas! 
I snapped it, it fell to the ground. 
And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part 
Some act by a delicate mind, 
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart 
Already to sorrow resigned. 
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, 
Might have bloomed with its owner awhile. 
And the tear, that is wiped with a little ad¬ 
dress, 
May be followed perhaps with a smile. 
THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 
T. MOOP.E. 
’Tis the last rose of summer. 
Left blooming alone; 
All her lovely companions, 
Are faded and gone ; 
No flower of her kindred, 
