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CALLS.

Longer calls!

How very much embarrassment that twirling thumb recalls,!

Though through the balmy air of night

They will predict a sweet delight!

And from all those pink-edged notes

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Received this noon,

What hope so sweetly cherished floats

To the love-worn maid that listens while she gloats

On the moon!

O, during one of those "elegant" calls,

What a mass of compliments that bashful caller drawls!

How he bawls!

How it appalls

A mother's ears! How glad he crawls

Into his carriage, - for other halls,

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