'Above the snow is the holly seen,
In bitter blast it abideth green,
And blood-red drops it as berries bears
So my aching bosom,
So my aching bosom,
Its truth and sorrow wears.'
6
Then half the ring did the sailor show,
Away with weeping and sorrow now!
'In bands of marriage united we
Like the broken Token
Like the broken Token
In one shall welded be.'
[No 45 THE MOLE-CATCHER.]
C.J.S.
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