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ACROSTIC.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ACROSTIC.

Earth is not thine eternal rest, fair flower;
Life's rosy garland blooms in Heav'n's own bower.
In the sweet breathings of the jocund spring,
Zephyrus may court thee with his pērfum'd wing;
Alas! how soon life fades! and flowers lie withering.