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Ainslee's, Vol. 15, No. 6, July 1905

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Love planted my rose in his garden fair— My rose of heart’s delight— And he laughed with joy when he saw it bear A crown of blossoms bright. But the harsh wind shattered the petals red ’Twixt darkness and the dew; What blossoms were living, what blooms were dead, Ah, Love nor cared nor knew!

Charlotte Becker.

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