<h3 id="Rose_Dolores">Rose Dolores</h3>
<p>THE moan of Rose Dolores, she made her plaint to me,<br/>
“My hair is lifted by the wind that sweeps in from the sea;<br/>
I taste its salt upon my lips—O jailer, set me free!”</p>
<p>“Content thee, Rose Dolores; content thee, child of care!<br/>
There’s satin shoon upon thy feet and emeralds in thy hair,<br/>
And one there is who hungers for thy step upon the stair.”</p>
<p>The moan of Rose Dolores, “O jailer, set me free!<br/>
These satin shoon and green-lit gems are terrible to me;<br/>
I hear a murmur on the wind, the murmur of the sea!”</p>
<p>“Bethink thee, Rose Dolores, bethink thee, ere too late!<br/>
Thou wert a fisher’s child, alack, born to a fisher’s fate;<br/>
Would’st lay thy beauty ’neath the yoke—would’st be a fisher’s mate?”</p>
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<p>The moan of Rose Dolores “Kind jailer, let me go!<br/>
There’s one who is a fisher—ah! my heart beats cold and slow<br/>
Lest he should doubt I love him—I! who love not heaven so!”</p>
<p>“Alas, sweet Rose Dolores, why beat against the bars?<br/>
Thy fisher lover drifteth where the sea is full of stars;<br/>
Why weep for one who weeps no more?—since grief thy beauty mars!”</p>
<p>The moan of Rose Dolores (she prayed me patiently)<br/>
“O jailer, now I know who called from out the calling sea,<br/>
I know whose kiss was in the wind—O jailer, set me free!”</p>
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