THIS red carnation, my sweet,
Wear for the sake of a blush;
But the white for the pure pale brow is meet.
. . . And the oriole is singing - hush!
And the world as a rose is gay,
As a hawthorn-bud is fair,
And the sky is sunny and clear to-day, -
Turquois of silent air.
For you are the world, you know,
And your lips the flower, you see, -
And your clear sweet eyes are the sky, and so
The sky is blue for me!
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Lectures on English Novelists.