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152 POEMS.
XIV. UNWARNED.
""~P IS sunrise, little maid, hast thou
-*- No station in the day?
- T was not thy wont to hinder so,
Retrieve thine industry.
T is noon, my little maid, alas !
And art thou sleeping yet ? The lily waiting to be wed,
The bee, dost thou forget?
My little maid, 't is night ; alas,
That night should be to thee Instead of morning ! Hadst thou broached
Thy little plan to me, Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,
I might have aided thee.
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