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Dear Lucy! in your absence, where'er your wanderings tend,
You must keep within your pure heart a sweet thought for your friend,
Till you sit once more in beauty within your father's hall,
With a soft smile on your young lip, and a pleasant word for all.
Alas! the breeze is balmy, and the hushed wave deeply blue,
And flowers are in my pathway, but no light-hearted Lu!
O the summer-months without you such a lonely time will be!
I am sighing for you, Lucy—do you ever sigh for me?