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Page 18 of Virginia : a tragedy, and other poems / by Marion Forster Gilmore.

VIRGINIA Shake not thy head at me, I prithee now. I only sport with thee. Look not so grave. Camilla. Sweet one, because thou art so gay to-day, I fear to-morrow thou wilt be in tears. Excess of spirits bears excess of grief. Thou'rt young and fair as Hero; but to her Misfortune came and loss and heavy woe! Virg. Now, thou remindest me of Wisdom's owl- Croak not so somberly. Thou who art one Whose heart is ever genial with mirth, Wrong'st Nature to cast shadows over youth. Camilla (drawying Virginia to her tenderly). My little love, I would not seem to sigh; Ever have I despised a sorry face, A gloomy or foreboding disposition. Thou hast most aptly said that I to-day Belie my character. Forgive! Forget! Virg. (pouting). Forget, thou croaking raven of despair Thou dost expect too much. I may forgive, But not forget. What ailest thee to-day Art thou not ill or weary with thy tasks We'll make thy labor lighter, and thy cares As to the household now shall rest on me. Carnilla. Not so, sweet child. There is no need for that. I am not ill nor weary, nay, nor sad, But fearful and in dread of hidden woe. What may the morrow bring to thee, my babe, Or to thy father, or thy lover What, I can not see, but only feel and dread. Virg. Camilla! Something surely ails thee now. Oh! I am mystified and overcome By thy prophetic words, thy drear address, is

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