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She stood before him, sweetly bold, To keep him from her garden shrine, With hair that fell, a shower of gold, Around her figure's snowy line And rosy mould:

He (with a re-awakened sense Of goodness, long for ever lost, And angel beauty's pure defence) Shrank back, unable to accost Such innocence:

But envy soon scoffed down his shame; And with a smile, designed for fawning, But like hell's daybreak sickly dawning, His crafty accents came.