For Rose
Her heart is full of love and flame.
She's writer of own strongests poems Which wrote without jeroboams.
She has delightful greeny garden.
She speaks with him on a language bardi.
All birds sing morning happy songs,
Which sound as it were dongs.
She is a perfect kinda fairy
She always smiley, her eyes are starry.
Her name is Rose. Dear Rose.
Whose heart is never close.
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