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BY KATE DASHWOOD.
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A fair, young, thoughtful face—and very pale
Is the soft dimpled cheek, and o’er her brow
Lingereth a strange, wild beauty; many a tale
Thy bright ideal weaveth for her now.
Those breathing lips!—they speak not, but you feel
Love’s thrilling kiss, hath mingled with his sigh,
The dreamy depths of those dark eyes reveal