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ROSETTE, by                    
First Line: Still upon her glances waiting
Last Line: And in conquest passion dies.'


STILL upon her glances waiting,
Still desiring, supplicating,
Vainly to Rosette I plead --
'Must I in eternal trial
Know the fury of denial?
Pity my so constant need!'

Still austerely, still unbending,
Nothing my occasion mending,
Cold and fair Rosette replies --
'I would clasp in sweet submission,
But that hope is love's condition,
And in conquest passion dies.'





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