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1779–1852

TO THE LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL MISS......,

Thomas Moore

In wedlock a species of lottery lies, Where in blanks and in prizes we deal; But how comes it that you, such a capital prize, Should so long have remained in the wheel?

If ever, by Fortune's indulgent decree, To me such a ticket should roll, A sixteenth, Heaven knows! were sufficient for me; For what could I do with the whole?

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TO THE LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL MISS......, · Thomas Moore · Poetry Cove