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 | Drifted in |  |
There was a maiden with flower-like face,
And manners full of unconscious grace,
Encouraged to air her modest worth
By that One Woman that gave her birth,
And with naivête 'tis a joy to state,
Recited to us
And manners full of unconscious grace,
Encouraged to air her modest worth
By that One Woman that gave her birth,
And with naivête 'tis a joy to state,
Recited to us
| Drifted in | |