Your aunt and I have discussed all this matter. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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