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THE OMEN.
"Oh! how we miss the young and bright,
With her feet of wind, her eyes of light,
Her fragrant hair, like the sunny sea
On the perfumed shores of Araby,
Her gay step, light as the snow-white deer,
And her voice of song! oh! we miss her here.
There is something sad in the lighted hall;
Without her can there be festival!
There is something drear in the meteor dance,
When we do not catch her laughing glance.
