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I do believe in them:—by those strange crimes Man's natural heart would shrink from,—by the fear That comes with midnight,—by that awful face, Which, though they say it was a fantasy, I know I saw,—I do believe in them.

O Bertha, you are beautiful to-night! My fairy Princess, with your golden hair Loosed from the braids which almost hid its wealth, Descending in a sunny shower of curls, And lighted up with diamonds; and your waist,— That rainbow girdle of all precious stones,— How well it suits its slender gracefulness!