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OH, wilt thou have my hand, Dear, to lie along in
As a little stone in a running stream, it seems to
lie and pine!
Now drop the poor pale hand. Dear, . . unfit to
plight with thine.


Oh, wilt thou have my cheek, Dear, drawn closer to
thine own?
My cheek is white, my cheek is worn, by many a
tear run down.
Now leave a little space. Dear, . . lest it should wet
thine own.


Oh, must thou have my soul, Dear, commingled
with thy soul?—
Red grows the cheek, and warm the hand, . . the
part is in the whole! . .
Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate, when soul is
joined to soul.


This work was published before January 1, 1924, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.