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46 " Why fret your conscience, cousin, writing thus ? " So Agnes pleaded. Mark said, " Life is sweet." " And roses are so dear." Reproachfully She glanced to where, for nearly all the year, A vase of roses stood beside her hand. " They make life's sweetness. Agnes sing to me ; Tis better than rebuking — juster, too." She, docile, sang a simple village lay: — " Down the mountain came the stream, Leaping in the glowing beam From the daylight's brightening gleam, On the sunny morning. " Crimson foxglove, tall and high, Bowed as though a king went by ; Heather stood up, proud and shy, On the sunny morning. "By the streamlet sat we two, Throned among wild hearts'-ease blue, While he said 'Dear, I love you.' Oh, the sunny morning ! "