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"SEEMS, MADAM?"

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

You went to the opera, dear, last night

In your beautiful new coupe.

I went, and in time to see you alight;

I walked; - my usual way.

You swept to your box like a queen, my dear,

With a shimmer of pearls and lace;

I crept up stairs to the gallery sphere,

For that's my usual place.

There came to your side, in the box, my dear,

In the splendor of evening dress,

Full many a one; but within my tier,

I sat in my loneliness.

They whispered compliments low, my dear,

And you smiled as you heard them speak;

Had my thoughts been uttered for you to hear,

Blushes had tinged your cheek.

When the curtain fell at the last, my dear,

You went with a queen's array

Of courtiers glib, and I too was near,

But dumb; - my usual way.

You smiled from the carriage, dear, like a queen,

On the courtiers clustered round;

From the other side fell a rose unseen,

And by me 't was as usual found.

It told me you still were my own, my dear.

They went to their homes elate,

And I to mine, - it is high, but near

To heaven; for heaven I wait.

G. C. G.

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