Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/73

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POEMS.
57
But scarce the wish my mind could frame,Before I scorned the selfish thought.Which aimed to load her soul with shame,Who balm to mine had often brought.———Friend, let these lines thy doubts remove,For Laura's breast is Virtue's shrine:It felt for me a Sister's love,And found a Brother's heart in mine.
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