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Reed ....Single Blessedness. 
But earlier is the rose distilled, 
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn 
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. 
Shakspeare. 
Love not, love not; the thing you love may change; 
The rosy lip may cease to smile on you, 
The kindly beaming eye grow cold and strange, 
The heart still warmly beat, and not for you. 
Mrs. Norton. > 
Alone! alone! how drear it is always to be alone! 
In such a depth of wilderness, the only thinking one! 
The waters in their path rejoice, the trees together 
sleep— 
But I have not one silver voice upon my ear to creep! 
Willis. 
Do any thing but love ; or, if thou lovest, 
And art a woman, hide thy love from him 
Whom thou dost worship. Never let him know 
How dear he is ; flit like a bird before him ; 
Lead him from tree to tree, from flower to flower; 
But be not won; or thou wilt, like that bird, 
When caught and caged, be left to pine neglected, 
And perish in forgetfulness. 
Miss Landon. 
i 
