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WHEN WILL YOU BE MY BRIDE?

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WHEN WILL YOU BE MY BRIDE? COME love to our old trysting place, Down by the streamlet's side, Where we in childhood often strayed, To watch the mimic tide. Say, are there king cups as of old, And rushes in the stream, And does love's flower forget-me-not, Stiil on the margin gleam. 'Tis many years since we have roamed Forth to the woodland spring, When you love wandered by my side A young and fragile thing. I've eften borne thee in my arms, When weary you had grown, When yon would pay me with a kiss, And cali me love your own. Then tell me, gentle maiden, tell, Cau you those hours forget ? Ah, no those rosy blushes tell They are remembered yet. Then come love to that cherished spot, Down by the streamlet's side, And whisper to your own true love When you will be his bride. Clydach. EMILY STEPHENS.

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