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International Weekly Miscellany - Volume 1, No. 6, August 5, 1850 by Various
page 13 of 116 (11%)
be ashamed:--

A maiden sat beneath a tree;
Tear-bedewed her pale cheeks be,
And she sighed heavily.

From forth the wood into the _light_
A hunter strides with carol _light_
And a glance so bold and bright.

He careless stopped and eyed the maid;
'Why weepest thou?' he gently said;
'I love thee well, be not afraid.'

He takes her hand and leads her on--
She should have waited there alone,
For he was not her chosen one.

He _leans_ her head upon his breast--
She knew 'twas not her home of rest,
But, ah! she had been sore distrest.

The sacred stars looked sadly down;
The parting moon appeared to frown,
To see thus dimmed the diamond crown.

Then from the thicket starts a deer--
The huntsman seizing _on_ his spear
Cries, 'Maiden, wait thou for me here.'

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