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Fervent and free thy young thoughts rise, 
Like fragrance to the summer skies. 
Then onward! while the Laurel charms 
With fadeless green thine eye, 
Beauty still dazzles, wins, and warms, 
Though dangers ’neath it he; 
And oft in hfe we find with grief 
The poison in the Laurel-leaf. 
But may thy fate far happier be, 
More blest thy lofty gifts, 
Than if Fame’s garlands circled tnee, 
When Time Life’s curtain lifts; 
A home of peace — a hearth of love —» 
Sweet Ida! be it thine to prove! 
