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TELL ME NOT, SWEET.

TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you, too, shall adore;

I could not love thee, dear, so much,

Loved I not honour more.

Richard Lovelace.

SHE WORE A WREATH OF ROSES.

SHE wore a wreath of roses

that night when first we met,

Her lovely face was smiling

beneath her curls of jet;

Her footsteps had the lightness,

her voice the joyous tone,

The tokens of a youthful heart

where sorrow is unknown.

I saw her but a moment,

yet methinks I see her now,

With a wreath of summer flowers

upon her snowy brow.

A wreath of orange flowers

when next we met she wore,

The expression of her features

was more thoughtful than before,

And standing by her side, was one,

who strove, and not in vain,

To soothe her leaving that dear home

she ne'er might view again.

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yet methinks I see her now,

With a wreath of orange blossoms

upon her snowy brow.

And once again I saw that brow,

no bridal wreath was there,

The widow's sombre cap

conceal'd her once luxuriant hair;

She weeps in silent solitude,

for there is no one near,

To press her hand within his own,

and wipe away the tear!

I see her broken-hearted,

and methinks I see her now,

In the pride of youth and beauty,

with a wreath upon her brow. Thomas Haynes Bayly.

O NANNY,

WILT THOU GO WITH ME?

NANNY, wilt thou go with me,

Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town? Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lowly cot and russet gown?

No longer drest in silken sheen,

No longer deck'd with jewels rare, Say, can'st thou quit each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nanny, when thou'rt far away,
Wilt thou not cast a wish behind?
Say, can'st thou face the parching ray,
Nor shrink before the wintry wind?
Oh, can that soft and gentle mien

Extremes of hardship learn to bear,
Nor sad regret each courtly scene,

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nanny, can'st thou love so true,
Through perils keen with me go;
Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pang of woe?
Say, should disease or pain befall,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care,
Nor wistful those gay scenes recall,

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

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