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TO MARY BOYLE
ix.For lowly minds were madden'd to the height By tonguester tricks, And once—I well remember that red night When thirty ricks,
x.All flaming, made an English homestead Hell— These hands of mine Have helpt to pass a bucket from the well Along the line,
xi.When this bare dome had not begun to gleam Thro' youthful curls, And you were then a lover's fairy dream, His girl of girls;