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Rh Of power to lure a swan from off the lake,
 * Or wooing bluebird from an April tree,

Upsprings the Boy, exclaiming, “I’m awake!”
 * And shakes his golden locks in frolic glee.

One look—and, like an arrow from the string, Away the maiden went, on laughing wing, Graciously leaving, ere she homeward flew, On the green turf impearled with drops of dew, Farewell impressions of the prettiest foot That ever graced and charmed a Gaiter Boot.

The awakened Boy, not fond of early rising, Resumed his pillow, thus soliloquizing:

“That Lady’s pleasant smile and ruby lip Might hope to win my heart’s companionship, But for the memory of that morn which proved That he is happiest who has never loved. That morn, when I, within a Lady’s bower, Offered my heart, hand, and a handsome dower To who, to my great and sad surprise, Told me, with mischief in her laughing eyes, That she was not at all inclined to marry,
 * And added, in a most provoking tone,