In The Meadow
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The shadow of thy curls I see
Upon thy lovely face;
And just a little wish is mine—
The shadow to embrace.
On thy black and silken tresses,
Ah, one longs to feast the sight;
But the shadows of their beauty,
Hanging on thy cheeks of light,
From my lips, exact a tribute,
Which I pay here in this meadow:
Blush not, my most winsome maiden;
I have only kissed the shadow.
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