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Show THE CITY. Crouched low for prey, insatiate, ' She sings her siren song! "Upon thy coming, youth, I wait, But, ah, thou tarriest long; See, gold and jewels within my hand I hold for thee to win Who rules the city rules the land Wilt thou not enter In?" Bright burns the fire within her eyes, Her cheeks are flushed with wine, Her bosom pants with wanton sighs, She whispers, "I am thine!" Into her arms he glides and laVs His lips upon her 9wn And for a kiss his soul he pays ' f Who thought to win a throne. The valley Magazine. |