I wish we could live as the flowers live, To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun; To slumber and sway in the heart of the night, And to die when our glory had done. I wish we could love as the bees love, To rest or to roam without sorrow or sigh; With laughter, when, after the wooer had won, Love flew with a whispered good-bye. I wish we could die as the birds die, To fly and to fall when our beauty was best: No trammels of time on the years of our face; And to leave but an empty nest.
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