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20o THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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There of idlenesses dreaming, Scarce from waking we refrain,
Moments long as ages deeming Till we're at our play again. |
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TO HELENE
On a gift-ring carelessly lost.
I
SEND a ring—a little band Of emerald and ruby stone, And bade it, sparkling on thy hand, Tell thee sweet tales of one Whose constant memory Was full of loveliness, and thee.
A shell was graven on its gold
'Twas Cupid 'fin'd without his wings — To Helene once it would have told
More than was ever told by rings: But now all's past and gone Her love is buried with that stone.
Thou shalt not see the tears that start
From eyes by thoughts like these beguiled ;
Thou shalt not know the beating heart, Ever a victim and a child :
Yet Helene, love, believe
The heart that never could deceive.
I'll hear thy voice of melody In the sweet whispers of the air; |
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