A Lady red, amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps. A Lady white, within the field In chintz and lily, sleeps. The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms Sweep vale, and hill, and tree, Prithee, my pretty Housewives! Who may expected be? The neighbors do not yet suspect! The Woods exchange a smile! Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird In such a little while! And yet how still the Landscape stands! How nonchalant the Hedge! As if the Resurrection Were nothing very strange! Emily '
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Transcription and commentary copyright 1996 by Martha Nell Smith, all rights reserved
Last updated on June 24, 1998
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