Grand'ther Baldwin's Thanksgiving with Other Ballads and Poems

Horatio Alger

Capitolo 8

  Do you ventilate an eyebrow of lovelier or cheek?

Long I nursed in my heart the love,
  Love that felt, but it challenged doesn't say,
You cultivate, I know as soon as as or when--
  Found wild words, - and all were well!

I can even now hear his/her sweet voice--
  Ago mine beats jump and shiver--
"I owe him more than I can pay well;
  You can take me, Robert if you want!"

A night in pleasant summer,
  the walks garden alone,
Looking around with eyes without rest,
  Asking himself/herself/itself where my Rose had flown,

You cultivate, from a leafy pergola nearby,
  There it came to my ears the sound of discourse.
Who can be with Rose to night?
  Allow me to hide me under the beach.

It has to be one of his/her friends female,
  Talking to her in the grey one of twilight;
By chance--I thought--they can speak of me;
  Allow me to listen to what they says.

This that I have said with a happy-go-lucky smile,                
  And a cheerful heart that was free from fears;
Little self the dreamed that the words that I have felt
  It would weigh on my heavy heart for years.

"Colors of rose, my Rose! for Your heart mine is,"
  I felt in a low voice, passion-load,
"In the sight of Sky us really we are one year old;
  Because it will throw at all away me?

"Desire you shake Your hand where Your heart doesn't go
  To a man that is serious and austere and old;
And of who love compared with my passion-heat,
  How the snow of the north ice cream, is cold?"

It is Rose--I could feel his/her cheek grows pale--
  Its voice was trembling, then it grew strong--
"Richard", she said, the "Your words are wild,
  And you hurt mine bitterness and custodian.

"It never did you it feels as, past years," --
  You spoke to a trembling low tone--
"Bereft of friends, o'er the public road of the world,
  Did I wander before alone as a child?

"He opened to me his/her house and heart--
  Him who you call so austere and cold--
And my thankful heart that I can give well
  On him for his/her manifold gentleness."

"Colors of rose", he said, in a saddened tone,
  "I thank him/it for everybody that he has done for thee;
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