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TO A FLIRT.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

I LOVE you not for what you are,

But what you seem to be;

I love you not for what is hid,

But for the things I see.

I love you for your large gray eyes

With jetty fringe and long;

I love you for your pearly teeth,

Your voice like murmured song.

I love you for your naivete,

The timid, bashful blush

That seems to say what heart would hide

And maiden lips would hush.

I love you for the half-drawn sigh,

The downward modest glance,

The soft brown hair, the marble brow,

The graceful feet and dance.

I love you for the willow form

That seems to sway in tune

To the sweet vows you swore last night

By the pale crescent moon.

But crescent moons change once a month,

E'en angel tongues can scold,

And tender eyes grow red with tears,

And naivete grow bold.

And fairy feet can stamp with rage,

A marble brow can frown,

A dainty mouth grow obstinate,

And hair both false and brown.

And blushes can serve deep designs

As well as modest look,

And jetty fringe be tempting fires

That bait a cruel hook.

So as I love not that which is,

But only that which seems,

You ne'er can be a real love,

But only one in dreams.

Z.

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