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THE RING
Was married too, may linger, till she seesHer maiden coming like a Queen, who leavesSome colder province in the North to gainHer capital city, where the loyal bellsClash welcome—linger, till her own, the babeShe lean'd to from her Spiritual sphere,Her lonely maiden-Princess, crown'd with flowers,Has enter'd on the larger woman-worldOf wives and mothers.
But the bridal veil—Your nurse is waiting. Kiss me child and go.
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