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THE TRYST 93
Of all thou canst, this is the greatest,
Thy duty earliest and latest.
Thy future rests in its embrace
With cure for ills that now abase.
Thou land of heart-born fancies thronging,
Thou land of poetry and longing,
Fill now thy heart, thy spirit free!
The Northern banner waits for thee!
THE TRYST
Suent I’m biding,
While softly gliding
Sink the still hours to eternity’s sleep.
My fancies roaming
List in the gloaming:—
Will she the trysting now keep?
Winter is dreaming,
Bright stars are beaming,
Smiling their light through its cloud-veil
they pour,
Summer foretelling
Sweet love compelling ;—
Dare she not meet me here more?
*Neath the ice lying,
Longing and sighing,
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