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AT THE CHURCH GATE.

ALTHOUGH I enter not,
Yet round about the spot

Ofttimes I hover;
And near the sacred gate,
With longing eyes I wait,

Expectant of her.

The minster bell tolls out
Above the city's rout,

And noise and humming ;
They've hush'd the minster bell :
The organ 'gins to swell:

She's coming, she's coming!

My lady comes at last,
Timid, and stepping fast,

And hastening hither,
With modest eyes downcast :
She comes—she's here—she's past-

May Heaven go with her!

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Like outcast spirits who wait
And see through heaven's gate

Angels within it.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

NOCTURNE.

BELLAGGIO.

Up to her chamber window

A slight wire trellis goes, And up this Romeo's ladder

Clambers a bold white rose.

I lounge in the ilex shadows,

I see the lady lean, Unclasping her silken girdle,

The curtain's folds between.

She smiles on her white-rose lover,

She reaches out her hand,
And helps him in at the window--

I see it where I stand !

To her scarlet lips she holds him,

And kisses him many a timeAh, me! it was he that won her

Because he dared to climb !

T. B. ALDRICH.

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But now her looks are coy and cold,

To mine they ne'er reply,
And yet I cease not to behold

The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

A DITTY.

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,

By just exchange one to the other given : I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,

There never was a better bargain driven : My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me keeps him and me in one,

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides : He loves my heart, for once it was his own,

I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY,

FIDELE.

FEAR no more the heat o' the sun

Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone and ta’en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

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