MAURINE
PART I.
I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:The climbing roseâ€вЂtree grew about me there,And checked with shade the sunny porticoWhere, morns like this, I came to read, or sew.I heard the gate click, and a firm quick treadUpon the walk. No need to turn my head;I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding,Before his...
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