In the Meadow

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In the Meadow

The shadow of thy curls I see

Upon thy lovely face;

And just a little wish is mine⁠—

The shadow to embrace.

On thy black and silken tresses,

Ah, one longs to feast the sight;

But the shadows of their beauty,

Hanging on thy cheeks of light,

From my lips, exact a tribute,

Which I pay here in this meadow:

Blush not, my most winsome maiden;

I have only kissed the shadow.