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To Emma.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

OUR loving kisses, fair maiden,

Were seen by no mortal, I ween.

To the stars that twinkle in heaven

We trusted our kisses unseen.

But one night a star in falling

Whispered the tale to a cloud;

The cloud in its turn to a mountain,

Whose summit it veiled in its shroud.

The mountain told the sunny land,

The land the waving trees,

And now our little secret

Is sung by every breeze.!

A.

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