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<h2> A WOMAN'S CHARMS </h2>
<p>My purse is yours, Sweet Heart, for I<br/>
Can count no coins with you close by;<br/>
I scorn like sailors them, when they<br/>
Have drawn on shore their deep-sea pay;<br/>
Only my thoughts I value now,<br/>
Which, like the simple glowworms, throw<br/>
Their beams to greet thee bravely, Love—<br/>
Their glorious light in Heaven above.<br/>
Since I have felt thy waves of light,<br/>
Beating against my soul, the sight<br/>
Of gems from Afric's continent<br/>
Move me to no great wonderment.<br/>
Since I, Sweet Heart, have known thine hair,<br/>
The fur of ermine, sable, bear,<br/>
Or silver fox, for me can keep<br/>
No more to praise than common sheep.<br/>
Though ten Isaiahs' souls were mine,<br/>
They could not sing such charms as thine.<br/>
Two little hands that show with pride,<br/>
Two timid, little feet that hide;<br/>
Two eyes no dark Senoras show<br/>
Their burning like in Mexico;<br/>
Two coral gates wherein is shown<br/>
Your queen of charms, on a white throne;<br/>
Your queen of charms, the lovely smile<br/>
That on its white throne could beguile<br/>
The mastiff from his gates in hell;<br/>
Who by no whine or bark could tell<br/>
His masters what thing made him go—<br/>
And countless other charms I know.<br/>
October's hedge has far less hues<br/>
Than thou hast charms from which to choose.<br/></p>
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