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TREES AND OTHER POEMS SERVANT GIRL AND GROCER'S BOY

ER lips' remark was: "Oh, you kid!"

Her soul spoke thus (I know it did):

"O king of realms of endless joy,

My own, my golden grocer's boy,

I am a princess forced to dwell

Within a lonely kitchen cell,

While you go dashing through the land

With loveliness on every hand.

Your whistle strikes my eager ears

Like music of the choiring spheres.

The mighty earth grows faint and reels

Beneath your thundering wagon wheels.

How keenly, perilously sweet

To cling upon that swaying seat!

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