The Rose
Oh the rose!
The wonderful, wonderful rose,
It's beauty is mysterious and divine,
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Oh the rose,
Of a sadness only it knows,
Save I, for its sadness is also mine.
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Oh the rose,
Amongst its piles of sorrowful prose,
With no light upon it to shine,
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Oh the rose,
Your thorns save you from your foes,
But as for loveliness, they give no sign.
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Oh the rose!
You and I are left after all the shows,
You are all that is left, to weep and pine…