Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,In whose orbs a shadow liesLike the dusk in evening skies!Thou whose locks outshine the sun,Golden tresses, wreathed in one,As the braided streamlets run!Standing, with reluctant feet,Where the brook and river meet,Womanhood and childhood fleet!Gazing, with a timid glance,On the brooklet's swift advance,On the river's broad expanse!Deep and still, that gliding
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