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THE MODEL.

COME hither, child, from the muddy street,

Dazzling in beauty, to fade so fleet:

Lean thy head on thy rounded arm;

Fear no longer the world's alarm;

Cast thine eyes on the picture there;

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Toss back thy burden of glossy hair;

Part thy lips in a sorrowful peace,

As if to welcome thy soul's release.

What Magdalen e'er looked half so sad

For a love which the hypocrite world calls bad!

Sit on that chair, thy draperies thrown

O'er the only treasures thou call'st thine own;

Cast down thine eyes, let their glances rest

On the half-hidden charms of thy budding breast;

Fold thine arms with humble air;

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