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Edith Nesbit - Questions
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What do the roses do, mother,
Now that the summer`s done?
They lie in the bed that is hung with red
And dream about the sun.

What do the lilies do, mother,
Now that there`s no more June?
Each one lies down in her white nightgown
And dreams about the moon.

What can I dream of, mother,
With the moon and the sun away?
Of a rose unborn, of an untried thorn,
And a lily that lives a day!
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