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Elizabeth Clementine Kinney
Poems
(5)
A Dream
’t was summer, and the spot a cool retreat—
Moonlight in Italy
There ’s not a breath the dewy leaves to stir;
The Blind Psalmist
He sang the airs of olden times
The Quakeress Bride
No, not in the halls of the noble and proud,
To the Boy
Thou happiest thing alive,