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Her rippling waves of golden hair

In one great coil were tightly twisted; But locks would break it, here and there, And curl about where'er they listed,

And then her sleeve came down, and I Fastened it up her hands were doughy; O, it did take the longest time!

Her arm, Ned, was so round and snowy. She blushed, and trembled, and looked shy; Somehow that made me all the bolder; Her arch lips looked so red that I

Well - found her head upon my shoulder.

We're to be married, Ned, next month;
Come and attend the wedding revels.

I really think that bachelors

Are the most miserable devils!
You'd better go for some girl's hand;
And if you are uncertain whether
You dare to make a due demand,
Why, just try cooking pies together.

ANONYMOUS.

POSSESSION.

A POET loved a Star,

And to it whispered nightly,

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Being so fair, why art thou, love, so far? Or why so coldly shine, who shinest so brightly? O Beauty wooed and unpossest!

O, might I to this beating breast

But clasp thee once, and then die blest!"
That Star her Poet's love,

So wildly warm, made human;

And leaving, for his sake, her heaven above,
His Star stooped earthward, and became a
Woman.

"Thou who hast wooed and hast possest,
My lover, answer: Which was best,
The Star's beam or the Woman's breast?"
"I miss from heaven," the man replied,

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A light that drew my spirit to it." And to the man the woman sighed, "I miss from earth a poet."

OWEN MEREDITH (LORD LYTTON).

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There's no place like home! there's no place like home !

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POEMS OF HOME.

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MARRIAGE.

hearts that love hath crowned or crossed

Love fondly knits together;

But not a thought or hue is lost
That made a part of either.

It is an ill-told tale that tells

Of "hearts by love made one": He grows who near another's dwells

More conscious of his own;

In each spring up new thoughts and powers
That, mid love's warm, clear weather,
Together tend like climbing flowers,
And, turning, grow together.

Such fictions blink love's better part,
Yield up its half of bliss;

The wells are in the neighbor heart,
When there is thirst in this :
There findeth love the passion-flowers
On which it learns to thrive,
Makes honey in another's bowers,
But brings it home to hive.

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And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,
And by that kind heart o' thine,
By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven,
That thou shalt aye be mine!

Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands,
And the heart that wad part sic luve !
But there's nae hand can loose my band,

But the finger o' Him abuve.
Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield,
And my claithing ne'er sae mean,

I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, -
Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean.

Her white arm wad be a pillow for me, Fu' safter than the down;

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MINE eyes he closed, but open left the cell Of fancy, my internal sight, by which

And her lips like lusmore blossoms which the Abstract, as in a trance, methought I saw,

fairies intertwine,

And her heart a golden mine.

She was gentler and shyer

Than the light fawn which stood by her, And her eyes emit a fire

Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape
Still glorious before whom awake I stood;
Who, stooping, opened my left side, and took
From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,

And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the

wound,

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