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211

Come slowly—Eden!
Lips unused to Thee—
Bashful—sip thy Jessamines—
As the fainting Bee—

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums—
Counts his nectars—
Enters—and is lost in Balms.

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Sep 2008 9:19 AM | Viewed: 6172 times

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