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SENORITA MIA.

IN softer sound than Saxon speech,

Though in a language strange to me,

I seek a name, enough unknown

To have a meaning all my own,

And call her slowly, tenderly,

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Senorita mia.

Not of New England is the charm,

Yet found within her closest shrine.

With English words I call her dear,

"My darling;" but I stammer here,

Worship to softness half divine,

Senorita mia.

The sweetest songs of English make

From ancient years of courtesy

And more, unwritten, new as spring,

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