Ruth Marie Paine
If but thy foot fall on a widerness,
Flow'rs spring, and shed their roseate blossoms there,
Shrouding the thorns that on thy pathway rise
And scatt'ring o'er it hues of Paradise.
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Ruth Marie Paine If but thy foot fall on a widerness, Flow'rs spring, and shed their roseate blossoms there, Shrouding the thorns that on thy pathway rise And scatt'ring o'er it hues of Paradise. |
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