Thou remindest me so of that fair girl away;—
But, ah! can I banish the blight from thy heart,
Or save thee from withering day after day?
And thus, oh! how often, the ones we love best,
Drop away from our sides like the roses in June—
But why should we weep? since they pass to their rest,
And if parted awhile, we shall follow them soon.
THE REEFER OF ’76.
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