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THE CHOLERA.
There may be those that fear thee, thou conquering scourge of earth,
And tremble as they talk of thee, around their quiet hearth;
Who, as they gaze on those they love, will feel their cheek turn pale,
As tidings of thy dark approach arise upon the gale.

There may be those who shudder as thine agonies are told,
And closer to their beating hearts then dearest ones enfold;
Who listen to the voice that tells of thy resistless power,
As a lightning that may strike them in their gayest, happiest hour.

O! pass them by, thou tyrant! in this then hour of bloom,
With all their sunny hopes and dreams, too lovely for the tomb;