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POEMS.

THE LOST HEIR.

" Oh where, and oh where

Is my bonny laddie gone ?"-OLD SONG.

One day, as I was going by
That part of Holborn christened High,
I heard a loud and sudden cry
That chilled my very blood ;
And lo! from out a dirty alley,
Where pigs and Irish wont to rally,
I saw a crazy woman sally,
Bedaubed with grease and mud.
She turned her East, she turned her West,
Staring like Pythoness possest,
With streaming hair and heaving breast
As one stark mad with grief.
This way and that she wildly ran,
Jostling with woman and with man-
Her right hand held a frying pan,
The left a lump of beef.
At last her frenzy seemed to reach
A point just capable of speech,
And with a tone almost a screech,
As wild as ocean birds,
Or female Ranter moved to preach,
She gave her “sorrow words.”

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