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Sweet Genevieve
O Genevieve, I'd give the world
to live again the lovely past !
The rose of youth was dew impearled,
But now withered in the blast.
I see thy face in every dream,
My waking tho' ts are full of thee ;
Thy glance is in the starry beam
That falls along the summer sea.
O Genevieve,
Sweet Genevieve !
The days may come,
the days may go,
But still the hands of memory weave
The blissful dream of long ago.
Fair Genevieve, My early love,
The year but make thee dearer far !
My heart shall never, never rove,
Thou art my only guiding star.
For me the past has no regret,
What ever the year may bring to me ;
I bless the hour when first we met-
The hour that gave me love and thee!
O Genevieve,
Sweet Genevieve!
The days may come,
The day may go,
But still the hands of memory weave
The blissful dream of long ago.
O Genevieve!
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