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THE LOVER'S QUARREL.
With frank sweet smile, and cheek that blushed in beauty's conscious bloom;
I wrapt my spirit at the sight in deeper, thicker gloom,

And to my brain the endless strain more dull and vexing grew,
The dance swept onwards—it were well to play the pageant through;
I thought, and with a listless step its maze I threaded too.

And knew not she was nigh until my ear her accents met,
"You leave us then so soon? Farewell!" and softer, lower yet
In tones that none beside might hear, "Forgive, but don't forget."

I looked up at her words and met an eye whose gentle ray
Sunk timid 'neath my anxious gaze, yet was not turned away.
And the smile that used to be of old, as kind, but not so gay;

The ice about my heart gave way, and with a generous shame,
I answered quick, "Forgive? nay! now too much from me you claim,
For hard I find it to forgive the only one to blame,"