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. Love, yes; I'll paint their meeting; the wan youth, Dying, but yet so happy in forgiveness; The sweet Enone, with her gentle tears, Filled with meek tenderness, her pensive brow Arching so gracefully, with deep blue eyes Half hidden by the shadowy lash—a look So patient, yet so fraught with tenderest feeling, Like to an idol placed upon the shrine Of faith, for all to worship. She shall be, Saving thine own inimitable smile, In all like thee, Alvine!