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1861–1923

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Maurice Henry Hewlett

A year went on, and twenty-one Saw me discarded. They laught at me for constancy Ne'er to be rewarded.

Then came a warm, still day of May And brought me a letter. I blusht so red, the cook she said, Lucky man to get her!

At half-past three he came for me; I dared not speak; But there was all he need to see Flaming in my cheek.

What better has the best of us If kind Heaven grant her A glowing hearth, a little house, And a good man to want her?

In the soft shrouding clinging mist His strong arms held me. Our lips kept tryst, and long we kiss'd; His great love fill'd me.

Sweet is the warmth of summer weather, But the best fire I know Is of two pair of lips together, Two hearts in one glow.

His love he told, that made me bold To look at him fairly, And see the burning blush take hold And colour him up rarely.

Within his ply though caught was I, I backt a saucy head: “Oh, I was shy a year gone by — Your turn now,” I said.

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