Soon regret fills its heart,
But its far too late to start,
It dies part by part,
A life for naught,
Long the rose sought,
But with nothing could its happiness be bought,
Its deeds are weighed,
And a decision made,
The rose removed with a spade,
To the trash the rose conveyed,
Where horrid things do invade,
And never remembered, because it stayed.
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Soon regret fills its heart,
But its ne'er too late to start,
In love it does take part,
A life saved,
The deeds are weighed,
And a decision made,
Again the rose is great,
Happy with its mate,
And glad to lose its hate,
Though it had long to wait,
It had good fate,
And is forever remembered in this state.
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