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<h2>THE LOVERS.</h2>
<br/>
The rose did caper on her cheek,<br/>
Her bodice rose and fell,<br/>
Her pretty speech, like drunken men,<br/>
Did stagger pitiful.<br/>
<br/>
Her fingers fumbled at her work, —<br/>
Her needle would not go;<br/>
What ailed so smart a little maid<br/>
It puzzled me to know,<br/>
<br/>
Till opposite I spied a cheek<br/>
That bore another rose;<br/>
Just opposite, another speech<br/>
That like the drunkard goes;<br/>
<br/>
A vest that, like the bodice, danced<br/>
To the immortal tune, —<br/>
Till those two troubled little clocks<br/>
Ticked softly into one.<br/>
<br/>
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