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THERE's a tear in her eye,—
Such a clear little jewel!
And it's horribly cruel;"
A GREEK GIFT.
HERE's a present for Rose,
Why, it's "Gouffé on Cooking "!
How pleased she is looking!
OVE comes back to his vacant dwelling,The old, old Love that we knew of yore! We see him stand by the open door,
With his great eyes sad, and his bosom swelling.
He makes as though in our arms repelling,
Ah, who shall help us from over-spelling
YOU shun me, Chloe, wild and shy
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother Through trackless woods. If spring-winds sigh, It vainly strives its fears to smother ;—
Its trembling knees assail each other
And yet no Libyan lion I,—
No ravening thing to rend another; Lay by your tears, your tremors by
A Husband's better than a brother; Nor shun me, Chloe, wild and shy
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother.
N London stones I sometimes sigh
For wider green and bluer sky;—
"ON LONDON STONES."
Then comes the spring,—the months go by,
And I-I too !-no more am found
In vain !-the woods, the fields deny
Mine is an urban Muse, and bound