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LOVE AND THE THISTLE.

AS CUPID was flying about one day,

With the flowers and zephyrs in wanton play, He spied in the air,

Floating here and there,

A winged seed of the Thistle-flower,

And merrily chased it from bower to bower.

And young Love cried to his playmates, "See, I've found the true emblem-flower for me,

For I am as light

In my wavering flight

As this feathery star of soft Thistle-down, Which by each of you zephyrs about is blown.

See, how from a Rose's soft warm blush

It flies, to be caught in a bramble bush ;-
And as oft do I,

In my wand'rings, hie

From beauty to those who have none, I trow;

Reckless as Thistle-down, on I go."

So the sly little God still flits away

Mid earth's loveliest flow'ret's, day by day;

And oh naidens fair,

Never weep, nor care

When his light wings waft him beyond your power,

Think-'tis only the down of the Thistle-flower!

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