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Evening at Home, An
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To —
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Joy like a stream flows through the Christmas-streets
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I wrote a Name upon the river sands
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Scene 3 -
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I cannot deem why men toil so for Fame
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Last night my cheek was wetted with warm tears
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Like clouds or streams we wandered on at will
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Beauty still walketh on the earth and air
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There have been vast displays of critic wit
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