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36
poems.
A prelude now;—now, one short pause,—
And hark! those thrilling notes again.

Ah! blessed one, that strain who hears,
As on the air its echoes swell.
For her, no sad, no blighting fears:
These notes of deep affection tell.

Then, minstrel, pour thy melody,
And raise thy tuneful numbers high.
The shrinking form thou may'st not see;
But know her faithful heart is nigh.

To-morrow's sun on thee shall shine,
And bless thee with its beaming ray.
Her heart's best tribute shall be thine,
And thine shall be her gentle lay.