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I think of her when morning slowly dawns With unclear light, fresh air & sparkling dew I think of her when evening softly falls, And unclear wonder at my folly, too.

She comes to me in many a midnight dream. So shadowry outlines of a vision sweet. She lingers near us if to gather up, Life's broken links & make them all complete.

But ah! o'er many a sweet & cherished hope That hand of fate a shadow mostly thorns, For unclear unclear unclear -- unclear the sweet Rose of mine Is unclear unclear to become my Rose.

Barnes