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150
POEMS.
For Love's the spell, that worketh well,
All evil to destroy;
In every home, the good time come,
Shall fill each breast with joy.

The good time come! ring, joy-bells, ring,
For dove-eyed Peace, with snow-white wing,
O'er earth her olive branch shall fling,
Then all shall this glad chorus sing—
For Love's the spell, that worketh well,
All evil to destroy;
In every home, the good time come,
Shall fill each breast with joy.