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the wife's appeal.
Ah, well do I remember, Charles,
When first your arm stole round me,—
You little dreamed how long your soul
In golden chains had bound me!

And apropos of chains, my own,
At Allen's shop last week
I saw the sweetest love, so rich,
So tasteful and unique!

The workmanship is most superb,
The gold most fine and pure,—
I quite long, Charles, to see that chain
Suspend your miniature!

I 've heard sad news while you were out,—
My nerves are much affected,—
You know the navy officer
I once for you rejected;

Driven to despair by your success,
Made desperate by my scorn,
He went to sea,—and has been lost
In passing round Cape Horn!