THISBE.
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1.
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She lives in the smoky city,
Low down by the railway line;
But she asks for no man’s pity,
Nor cares for verse of mine.
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2.
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She’s moving hither and thither,
And often her work is hard;
But sometimes in fine weather
She rests a bit in the yard.
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3.
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With the empty pail behind her,
She leans her arms on the wall,
And hopes that there he’ll find her,
Her lover, strong and tall.
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4.
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Up in the air above her,
The great trains outward go;
And many a lass and her lover
May journey to Jericho.
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5.
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But when he stoops from his doorway,
And leans his arms on the wall,
The world would be in a poor way
If that were not best of all.
Blackwood's Magazine.J. R. S.
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