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M. R. C.
FROM honeyed slopes of England's Helicon,
Where'er the visits of the Muse beget
Daisy or hyacinth or violet
Are passion-flushed and sultry-hearted yet ;
And many with immortal tears are wet ; And emptied of its odorous soul is none.
Take, then, this garland of melodious flowers.
Another wreath from his own garden bring,