By A Disciple

The dew drop kissed the blooming rose,

It cooled her reddened cheek;

She smiled and opened wider still,

Her petals soft and meek.

She raised her dainty head and sighed

"O dew drop, whence com'st thou?

I know that soon thou wilt be gone

Although I feel thee now.

Why must thou go—why stay not here—

I love thy gentle touch.

It helps me in my budding growth,

Thou must have known as much."

"O smiling rose, I can not stay—

The morning sun so proud

Will lift my liquid body

High up into a cloud—

From thence I'll drop as gentle rain

Once more upon the ground;

Then glide into a rippling rill

For water's all around;

From rill into the river.

From river into bay.

From bay into the ocean

Where for a time I'll stay.

And then the sun will lift me

Once more into a cloud—

Perchance again I'll kiss thee—

That is—if I'm allowed."

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