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Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1660/"Rose, in the hedgerow grown"

< Littell's Living Age‎ | Volume 129‎ | Issue 1660

Rose, in the hedgerow grown,
Where the scent of the fresh sweet hay
Comes up from the fields new-mown,
You know it — you know it — alone,
So I gather you here to-day!

For here — was it not here, say? —
That she came by the woodland way,
And my heart with a hope unknown

Ah, yes! — with her bright hair blown,
And her eyes like the skies of May,
And her steps like the rose-leaves strown
When the winds in the rose-trees play, —
It was here, — O my love, my own

Henry Dobson