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MARION.
BELOVED, list; those eyes of thine
Are lighted by a spark divine;
Nay, turn not, till I breathe the whole,
The beauty of thy mind, thy soul;
Of these, sweet Marion, I'd speak,
Richer than hue on brow or cheek;
And these the fairest flowers outvie
When morning dews upon them lie.

Others may charm with dance, with song,
But greater spells to thee belong;
Thy form of purity, of grace,
Arms perfect to enfold embrace;
Thy character with these combine
Great wealth and pleasure to outshine;
The gems of mind the most I prize,
A wife like thee, so truly wise.

Let others distant lands explore
For hidden or mysterious lore,
Content 'mid nature's fields I'll roam
With thee, in sylvan, rural home;