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[left facing page] To Miss Nettie You lack the beauty of a damask skin But there are roses lying near at hand To spring into your cheek; oft from within They come, called up at feeling's high command And on the glowing surface long remain.

Not fairer grows the lily of the vale Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale While health that rises with the newborn day Breathes o'er her cheek the softest blush of May

J B Crawford

[right facing page] May the evening of thy life be as bright and happy as its dawn is the sincere wish of your friend. E.L.W.

Jan: 17th 1860.