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Its tendrils twine together, its stems united bloom! 
But, dearest, ’t is not thus 
The wreath has proved to us, 
And its sweets I would discuss 
E’er chance, or change, or care, hath wrought the 
dreaded doom. 
Time, ever on the wing, 
Hath summoned the fourth spring, 
Its verdure round to fling, 
Since in our hearts began those charmed buds to 
grow; 
And in the scenes of mirth, 
Which witnessed first their birth, 
I’ve tried their dazzling worth, 
And deemed the glittering blossoms had gem-like 
roots below. 
In scenes of tranquil pleasure, 
I’ve tried the weight to measure, 
Of my talismanic treasure, 
