She meets me there, so strangely fair

    That my soul aches with a happy pain;—

  A pressure, a touch of her true lips, such

    As a seraph might give and take again;

  A hurried whisper, "Adieu! adieu!
...

Poet:

        When Summer o'er her native hills

            A veil of beauty spread,

        She sat and watched her gentle fold,

            And twined her flaxen thread.

 

        The mountain daisies kissed her feet,...

Poet:

Attraction is a curious power,

    That none can understand:

Its influence is every where—

    In water, air and land;

It keeps the earth compact and tight,

    As though strong bolts were through it;

And...

Poet:

      "North and South too many an hour

            I've by the skipper held the wheel;

       Seen too many a hissing shower

            O'er my old sou'-wester reel."

Poet:

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Poet: