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OUR EXCHANGES.

For when the red rose saw you, dear,

So lovely and so meek,

'T would pale before the richer glow

That lingers on your cheek.

And yet, my sweetest Mabel,

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I cannot send to you

The rose which blooms in purest white,

The rose of lily hue.

For when the white rose saw you, love,

It surely would, I trow,

Blush bright with lovely crimson,

Ashamed before your brow.

And so, my lovely Mabel,

You see me puzzled quite;

I cannot send the crimson rose,

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