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Mary

ES, we were happy once, and care My jocund heart could ne'er surprise;

My treasures were, her golden hair,

Her ruby lips, her brilliant eyes.

My treasures were--alas! depart Ye visions of what used to be!

Cursed be the heart--the cruel heart-- That stole my Mary's love from me.

Dark are my joyless days--and thou-- Dost thou too dream, and dreaming weep?

Or, careless of thy broken vow,

Unholy revels dost thou keep?

No,

Mary, no,--we loved too well,

Such deep oblivion cannot be;

Cursed be the lips, where guile could dwell,

To lure thy love away from me!

It cannot be!--ah! haply, while With wild reproach I greet thy name,

Thy ruby lip hath ceased to smile-- Thy happy head is bowed with shame!

Haply, with haggard want opprest,

Thou weepest where no eye may see;

Cursed be the spoiler's cruel breast-- But, oh! my Mary--heaven shield thee!

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Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton, Lady Stirling-Maxwell (née Sheridan; 22 March 1808 – 15 June 1877) was an English social reformer and author ac…
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