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1862–1900

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Thomas Winthrop Hall

Now, all you pretty maids in town, Take heed of my sad plight. I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown To get it back to-night.

I threw it, poet-like, I own, Up to a silvery star; I must confess I might have known I could not throw so far.

But, oh, surprise! It circled round, And sank as though‘ t were laden With love — when almost to the ground ‘ T was caught by some young maiden.

And that young maid I wish to find. I've lost a kiss, alack! It is not hers. She'll not be kind Unless she give it back.

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Please Return. · Thomas Winthrop Hall · Poetry Cove