50
The charade—
When second held first
For best or for worst,
I thought myself happy to win her.
But what could I say
When the very next day
She gave me the whole for my dinner?
is solved by Herring.
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51
In the lines—
The bees’ blithe vernal love-songs softly hum,
Blending so sweetly with the restful air;
The noiseless, deep-laced twilight shadows come,
And well I ken the lass who meets me there—
the familiar adage, “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home” is buried.
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