Pleased, the fresh packs on cloth of green they see,
And, seizing, handle with preluding glee;
They draw, they sit, they shuffle, cut and deal;
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Like friends assembled, but like foes to feel:
But yet not all—a happier few have joys
Of mere amusement, and their cards are toys;
No skill nor art, nor fretful hopes have they,
But while their friends are gaming, laugh and play.
Others there are, the veterans of the game,