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TO IONE.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

INTO the depths of your dark lustrous eyes I gaze,

And as I look with admiration there, I seem to see,

Reflected from their glances in a thousand ways,

The love which you so oft have promised me.

Nearer, more closely now, I fold thee to my breast,

Your hand returns the gentle pressure of my own,

Your ruby lips against my cheek are pressed,

And two hearts softly beat as one.

H.

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