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Poor child, with heart the down-lined nest 'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find Of warmest instincts unconfest,

Its evening landscape balmy-kind; Soft callow things that vaguely felt And here, where still her gentle name The breeze caress, the sunlight melt. Lives on the old green glass, would frame But yet, by some obscure decree

Fond dreams of unfound harmony Unwinged from birth ;-poor Dorothy! 'Twixt heart and heart. Poor Dorothy!

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MY NEIGHBOUR ROSE. Though walls but thin our hearths divide, Your pets are mine. Pray what may ail We're strangers, dwelling side by side ;- The pup, once eloquent of tail? How gaily all your days must glide I wonder why your nightingale Unvex'd by labour!

Is mute at sunset. I've seen you weep, and could have wept; Your puss, demure and pensive, seems I've heard you sing (and might have slept!) Too fat to mouse. Much she esteems Sometimes I hear your chimney swept, Yon sunny wall, and, dozing, dreams My Charming Neighbour!

Of mice she once ate.

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For ever may roses divinely blow,

And velvety bees in convolvulus bells, And wine-dark pansies charm

And roses of bountiful JuneBy the prim box path where I felt the Oh, who would think their summer spells glow

Could die so soon! Of her dimpled, trusting arm, And the sweep of her silk as she turn'd For a glad song came from the milking and smiled

shed, A smile as pure as her pearls;

On a wind of the summer south,

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And the green was golden above her And the odorous limes were dim above head,

As we leant on a drooping bough; And a sunbeam kiss'd her mouth; And the darkling air was a breath of love, Sweet were the lips where that sunbeam And a witching thrush sang “Now!" dwelt;

For the sun dropt low, and the twilight grew And the wings of Time were fleet

As we listen'd, and sigh’d, and leant; As I gazed; and neither spoke, for we That day was the sweetest day—and we felt

knew Life was so sweet!

What the sweetness meant.

Frederick Locker.

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