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 WHEN Jessie comes with her soft breast, 
 And yields the golden keys, 
Then is it as if God caress'd 
 Twin babes upon His knees-- 
Twin babes that, each to other press'd, 
Just feel the Father's arms, wherewith they both are bless'd.
But when I think if we must part, And all this personal dream be fled-- O then my heart! O then my useless heart! Would God that thou wert dead-- A clod insensible to joys and ills-- A stone remote in some bleak gully of the hills!

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