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4th May morning.
My carrier pigeon is a “fancy” pigeon,
Less tangible than widgeon;
A sympathetic love,—yet not a Cupid,
Nor pert nor stupid,
Heart-warm & snug tho' May Day deal in zeroes,
A well-known Eros.
On windless wings by flight untired for ever
Outspeed the speeding river,
From Torrington remote to utmost Chelsea
(—Do what I tells ye!—)
Carry a heart of love & thanks & blisses,
A beak of kisses,
Past Piccadilly's hills & populous valleys,
Past every human head that more or less is
Begirt with tawny tresses,
Past every house, to sumptuous Bellevue Palace;
There greet the courteous Courtneys with politeness,
And the dear Scotts with an affectionate brightness,
And give a kiss to dark-locked Alice.
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