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A Minute

 She plucked a blossom fair to see;
 Upon my coat I let her pin it;
And thus we stood beneath the tree
 A minute.
She turned her smiling face to me; I saw a roguish sweetness in it; I kissed her once;—it took, maybe, A minute.
The time was paltry, you’ll agree; It took but little to begin it; But since my heart has not been free A minute.

Poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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