Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/37

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'Twas a branch of roses her lover gave Amid her raven curls to wave, When they bade farewell, with that gentle sorrow Of the parting that sighs, "we meet to-morrow;" Yet the maiden knows not if her tears are shed Over the faithless or over the dead. She has not seen his face since that night When she watch'd his shadow by pale moonlight, And that branch has been cherish'd as all that was left To remind her of love and of hope bereft.